Temptation
by A. X. Zanier
Summary: Alex goes missing and the Agency has to find her with few leads and less information.
1. teaser

Title: Temptation

Author: A. X. Zanier

Rating: C, T, FRT-13 (not suitable for anyone under 14)

Fandom: _The Invisible Man_

Series: _Pater Noster_ Arc

Pairing: Bobby/Claire

Sequel: Five months after _Lead us not..._

Summary: Alex goes missing and the Agency has to find her with few leads and less information.

Spoilers: Probably, does it really matter after three years?

Disclaimer: a) The characters and basic story ideas of _The Invisible Man_ are the property of others including, but not limited to Matt Greenberg, Studios USA, Stu Segall Productions and NBC Universal. Any additional characters or story ideas are mine. I make no money from this intellectual exercise. b) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any opinions or views found herein do not necessarily reflect those of the author and are used for story-telling purposes only.

---

**Temptation**

_--- _

_"When you make a mistake, don't look back at it long. Take the reason of the thing into your mind and then look forward. Mistakes are lessons of wisdom. The past cannot be changed. The future is yet in your power." -- Hugh White (1773 - 1840)_

_Anyone can make a mistake._

_Claire did when working for the DOD, and Gloria lost a decade of her life. Bobby did when he gave his heart to a woman that, in the end, couldn't deal with who he was. Kevin did when he trusted the wrong person and paid with his life._

_A harsh lesson, that one._

_And me? No need to list the number of mistakes I've made in my life. Let's just say there's been more'n a few._

_Alex, Miss damn-near-perfect-super-agent, has made exactly one mistake that I know of, and that was not trusting her own instincts when it came to protecting her son. She paid dearly for that one and still is every single waking moment._

_Claire was able to fix Gloria and send her home to her family. Bobby healed as much as he could and moved on. Kevin... well, Kevin is still dead._

_And Alex... well, she was gonna grasp the future and make it her own._

---

"Well?" Sharon asked, impatience coloring her words. She was not overly fond of waiting for results, no matter how dedicated she was to long-term plans.

"I cannot see what is not there," was the confounded response from the woman seated before the desk as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"A year ago you easily saw forward a decade..."

"Then something changed in that year. Something significant enough to alter the timeline." The woman crossed her arms over her chest, vivid blues eyes meeting Sharon's without flinching, stubbornness written on every delicate feature, but it was also obvious she was just as unhappy as Sharon with the lack of answers.

"Perhaps your gift is failing after all these years," she suggested, not truly believing it, given that there had been no problems before now. In fact, that very gift had resolved a long standing issue in South Africa six weeks previously.

"Delphi is fine. You are simply not asking the correct questions." That came from the male of the pair, Lethe, who's appearance, for all the attempts at homogeny, was markedly different from his counterpart. Both had blue eyes, blond hair, and were within inches of six feet (her under, him over), but that is where the similarity ended. At least in comparison to each other; they were _very_ different from the other genetically enhanced members of Chrysalis, and not just because of the tattoo high on their cheekbones.

Sharon raised one eyebrow, watching him carefully; considering how young he was, he was remarkably loyal to Delphi, but, then again, they always were. "And what do you suggest?"

"The long-range views have been the same for many years."

"Until today," Sharon reminded him.

"Until today," he conceded with an inclination of his head. "Look closer, near-distant, to find where the cusp is."

Sharon considered his words, once again thankful for the unemotional reserve his line produced. Delphi had a far more volatile and inquisitive nature. "Bon. Delphi, what of Chrysalis three years from now?"

Delphi's gaze turned inward, her eyes glazing over as her oracular ability took control, but as before, she said nothing, blinking back to full awareness within 30 seconds. "Nothing of Chrysalis, Sharon."

"Merde, what could have possibly happened?" Sharon's words, rhetorical as they were, still affected Delphi, who groaned as her gift came to life.

"_The serpent lies in the sand, guarding the barren nest_," Delphi muttered softly.

Sharon huffed; the woman could be insufferable at times. "Without the melodrama or do you wish to winter at our Siberian compound?"

Delphi smiled slightly, clearly amused and unconcerned at the threat. "If I must."

"Del," Lethe admonished, contrite where she refused to be.

She rolled her shoulders and settled deeper into the seat. "I see you in a jail cell, pale, eyes sunken, hair shorn to the quick. You are in despair. The libraries being opened, the volumes removed. The databases and seed banks pillaged, all our work, our secrets revealed to the world."

Sharon sat frozen in place, shocked disbelief easily read upon her face as she listened to the impossible, fear rising within her for the first time in many decades. "When?" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

"When what?" Delphi sounded stressed, the question too vague for her abilities to grasp and make use of.

"When will Sharon be arrested?" Lethe offered up, giving her a specific direction to move into.

The response was swift. "No more than two years."

Sharon shivered at the thought of being imprisoned by those mere mortals, she would much rather die than suffer the ignominy. "How does it begin?"

Delphi shook her head, free of her geas for the moment. "The act that precipitated this has already occurred. I _cannot_ see it."

"Then how do we change this future you see?" Sharon very nearly snarled the question, not willing to admit that all they had worked for, labored for all these many years was lost to them.

Delphi went still for several seconds, but the question produced no results.

Lethe softly said, "Can it be changed?"

That was far more effective. Delphi's eyes went wide, but she was no longer seeing anything in the room. "Yes," she hissed, voice faint and distant, "many paths still remain."

"Where?" Sharon immediately realized her question was not specific enough and modified it to, "Where do we start?"

"Where?" Delphi echoed, as if suddenly struck dumb. "Not here... away... a city by the sea."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Il y a beaucoup de villes par la mer." She turned her attention to Lethe. "Ce qui vous penser arriverez à vous si nous sommes exposés?"

Delphi visibly shuddered, but said nothing. The vision produced perhaps too horrific to speak of aloud.

"Del, focus. Follow the ripples back. Find where we need to be," Lethe directed, having had long practice at directing her to find the necessary cusp.

She cocked her head, as if listening to distant music. "Where desert meets the sea."

Well, that narrowed the field, though not nearly enough. Sharon couldn't order every inch of desert coastline searched. There must be a way to narrow the choices.

"Africa?" Lethe suggested, grasping the need as quickly as Sharon had.

"No," was the sharp response.

"Australia?"

"No."

"America," Sharon said, strangely certain it would be correct, especially given the... interesting problems in that particular sector in recent years.

"Ja," Delphi answered, slipping into her native tongue, the stress of _seeing_ making her momentarily forget any others. "Ein Krieg kommt, einer, den wir nicht gewinnen können."

_'A war?'_ This was not what Sharon needed, not when things had been going so well. The few trouble spots had been dealt with, and it looked to be smooth sailing for years to come. Until today. "Who, Delphi? Who brings this war down on us?"

The answer, spoken as if torn from her, was a single word, "Stark."

---

A single lamp was lit. Cool-white light poured down from beneath the artistically designed lampshade to illuminate the state-of-the-art LCD monitor that sat atop the equally artistically designed desk. The computer itself was an impressive tower that sat off to one side, the cooling fan humming softly in the enveloping darkness.

On the floor, just barely within the light that spilled over the edge of the desk, lay two travel bags, both in a non-standard shade of vibrant crimson. Next to the bags were a pair of spike-heeled shoes, also crimson, that had been discarded in an effort to achieve a moment of relaxation.

Relaxation that was, as often happened, short-lived.

The owner of the bags and the shoes was one Alex Monroe, who sat before her computer, typing in a password that would allow her to access the supposedly urgent report compiled by Nikki at _the fourth monkey_.

As the cipher program accepted the password and opened the encrypted file, she reminded herself, yet again, to thank Darien for suggesting the company when she had found herself at a dead end. Nikki had come through brilliantly, actually succeeding in accessing not just previously unknown Chrysalis databases, but Jared Stark's personal system (as personal as anything could be for a member of Chrysalis) and then proceeded to download massive amounts of information. Some was, understandably useless for her purposes, but some had been of great value to her and that was what had convinced her that they were indeed as good as advertised. So, a new deal was hammered out, and for a modest fee, _the fourth monkey_ would monitor and decipher Stark's and PDA traffic, watching for very specific things. A weekly report was created and delivered on disk by messenger directly into Alex's waiting hands. In town or out on assignment didn't matter, they would find her and see to it that she got what she paid for. It was money extremely well spent.

Today, however, was different. She had already received this week's report and hadn't expected the next for several days yet. No, this was what the voice on the phone - it wasn't Nikki; that much she knew for sure - had called urgent. So, instead of a leisurely evening finalizing some preparations for her trip to Boston, she rushed and met the courier outside the Harding Building just after midnight.

The computer produced a musical trill to inform her that its task was complete. Alex quickly double-clicked on the report icon and skimmed through the first few paragraphs as soon as it appeared. Within moments, she had paused in confusion at one particular sentence, then returned to the beginning to read it in detail.

After several minutes, she sat back in her chair, eyes wide in disbelief. Hope, long forgotten hope, burned brighter than magnesium touching water within her. Initially, disbelief won out, the hope banked for the time being, but still warming her. She turned to the raw files; the actual emails and text messages - thought to be so very secure - to read them for herself. It did not take long to see why they'd come to the conclusions they had. Stark's emails were in coded even before the standard encryption had been applied, but she had learned to pick out the key phrases and words by now.

"Well... crap," Alex muttered into the darkened office.

Eleanor Stark was coming to town to see her husband.

With their son.

Alex's son.

_'It's a trap,'_ the professional in her declared vehemently. And it was probably true. Alex had been hounding Stark personally and Chrysalis in general ever since she'd learned she'd foolishly, no matter how good her intentions, given James back to them. Stark had whisked them away and hidden them so well that even Alex's virtually endless resources had been unable to find them. Even Nikki had come up empty so far, which meant they'd been hidden very well indeed. But it looked as if their other efforts had paid off.

Big time, as Darien would say.

She glanced back at the report; the meeting was scheduled for tomorrow... this morning, a little over nine hours from now.

"What if it's not a trap?" she whispered aloud, the sound echoing hollowly off the invisible walls.

_'Of course it's a trap,'_ that logical voice insisted.

She listened to that voice, gave its point of view the attention it deserved, taking it's warning very seriously, but ultimately it didn't matter if it was a trap. She had to take the risk, take the chance.

She looked down at the bags at her feet; the ATF would just have to find someone else.

Alex was going to get her son back.


	2. Chapter 1

"Fawkes, where the hell have you been?" Bobby asked, glancing at his watch in obvious impatience.

Darien took a lazy sip from his mocha latte as he continued walking slowly down the hall. He hadn't gotten home until after three a.m. and had zero interest in answering the phone when it rang before nine. "You know me, Hobbes, when the boss calls I roll over and go back to sleep."

Bobby shook his head and led the way to the Official's office. "He's got a bee in his bonnet, Fawkes, and you pulling crap like this..."

"Don't start up again. I will once again do my invisible agent schtick for the fatman, saving the world from evil. What more do ya want?" Darien had a hard time keeping the irritation from his voice. This had become a well-worn issue between them. Darien was just not dedicated enough to the whole greater-good thing for his partner, but, then again, he never had been.

Bobby sighed, the anger, if that had been what it was, evaporating. "What I want ... ain't important," he muttered in a low voice.

Darien was caught off guard with those words, suddenly wanting to pull his friend aside and talk it out instead of ignoring it and waiting for the next round of bickering and sniping. Even Claire had noticed, likening them to couple riding that fine edge of love and hate, unable to decide whether they should fall into bed or throttle each other. The fact that they were both male didn't seem to be an issue for her, never mind the whole she was already sleeping with Bobby thing.

Their arrival at the Official's office prevented Darien from probing the situation between them in more detail, but it was clear it would need to be dealt with soon.

Bobby swung the door open and waved for Darien to precede him. Claire was already seated just to the left of the Official, who sat at the head of the conference table. Eberts, as always, stood behind his boss, hands clasped before him in some odd imitation of parade rest. Bobby and Darien took seats opposite Claire, who gave both of them a brilliant smile. Clearly, she wasn't concerned about his tardiness.

Idly, Darien wondered if the 'Fish had figured out that the enigmatic Keeper was knocking boots with his top agent. If he was a betting man, and he often was, he'd place good money on it. Thing was, it had never been openly acknowledged, which meant if he asked even Eberts he risked spilling the proverbial beans. And that was something he had no intention of doing. Oh no, his little tiger had been living in a world of bliss and had therefore been completely distracted for months now. That fact had allowed Darien a certain amount of freedom he otherwise would not have enjoyed, and he'd spent many an evening reacquainting himself with his larcenous past and keeping his end of the deal at his second job.

"Nice of you to finally join us," the Official remarked in a less than pleasant tone.

Darien shrugged and set his coffee on the scarred, wooden surface. "The world didn't end, did it?" The rhetorical question caused the 'Fish's eyes to narrow dangerously.

"Not this time, no," Eberts admonished, in the driest tone he could manage.

Darien stretched to cover the urge to wince. Ebes did have a point, after all. "What's up?"

"Have any of you heard from Agent Monroe?" Eberts asked, his look carefully neutral.

Darien and Bobby glanced at each other in confusion.

"Thought she was on assignment with the ATF in Boston? The Garibaldi case," Bobby said.

Darien nodded in agreement. Alex had even asked his opinion on some aspects of the case and he'd been happy to assist. "She left a couple days ago, didn't she?"

"So we thought. She never made contact with Agent Ivanova," Eberts explained. "In fact, we're not entirely certain she even got on the plane."

Darien produced a heartfelt, "Oh crap," for everyone in the room.

"So she's been missing almost three days and we're only _now_ being told?" Bobby sounded indignant and had every right to be as far as Darien was concerned. Hell, he felt more than a touch indignant himself. Alex might not have been the perfect addition to their little group of underfunded spies, but things had a way of working out for the best. Even things like arrogant, smug and talented super agents.

"Bobby," the Official grunted, none too thrilled with the sudden lack of obsequiousness.

"There was some uncertainty at first, since her luggage made it to Logan airport intact," Eberts stated, a hint of worry creeping into those watery blue eyes of his. Everyone knew he had a soft spot for the exceedingly beautiful and dangerous she-spy, though whether it was for the woman or the money she brought to the eternally cash-poor Agency was debatable.

"Did she board the plane?" Claire asked, the concern for her friend was unmistakable.

"We don't know," The Official answered. "She checked in and was seen in the boarding area, but..."

"But no one saw her actually get on the plane," Bobby summed up, probably assuming, as Darien did, that everything that could be verified on video, had been. "So, either she bailed - for reasons unknown - or someone grabbed her. Question is who?"

Bobby proceeded to answer his own question with, "Chrysalis," at the same time Darien said, "Stark."

"If Alex had discovered something involving Chrysalis, I do believe that she would have informed the rest of us," Claire pointed out matter-of-factly.

The Official harrumphed, "True enough."

"That still leaves Stark, and I know Alex has been riding his ass ever since she found out about him taking James. She hasn't stopped looking for her son." Of course, he didn't mention the fact that he'd been helping her in that search, in his own small way.

"While Mr. Stark is not the only enemy Ms. Monroe has accrued over her career, I must agree that he would be on the top of the list of suspects," Eberts piped up.

"So where do you want us to start, Chief?" Bobby was at his attentive best.

"At the beginning, where else? See if you can reconstruct her last day here. Check her house, her office, dry cleaners... whatever you need to do, but find her." The Official was surprisingly insistent. Alex was a major bonus for the Agency, if only on paper, and the fatman would hate to lose so valuable a pawn.

Darien poked a finger into the air to gain his boss' attention. "Uh, does that 'whatever' include going to... an outside consultant?"

The Official removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes for a moment, obviously thinking.

It was Eberts who spoiled the mood with a sprightly, "Oh! You mean Miss O'Neill."

Darien rolled his eyes. "Still haven't mastered the art of subtlety, have ya, Ebes?"

Eberts looked properly chastised, his pale cheeks tingeing pink, which caused Bobby to chuckle softly.

The Official cleared his throat to pull their attention back to its proper place - him. "I do not want Miss O'Neill or her business involved in this matter."

The decision stunned Darien. "But why not? Fallon'd be able to get the info we want in hours and..."

"No, damn it," the Official barked, cutting off Darien's somewhat reasoned argument.

"But..." he tried again, only to be silenced with a glare.

"Darien, the Official is fully aware of Miss O'Neill's capabilities. There is no need for you to detail them," Eberts stated, once again cool, composed, and sure of himself.

Bobby surprised Darien by asking, "Then why not use her?"

He had to wonder for a second just how Bobby was interpreting the word 'use.'

The Official spread his hands and leaned back in his chair. "She is far to... resourceful to waste." When his words produced nothing but blank looks from the partners he sighed. "Come now, do you really think Chrysalis would hesitate to wipe _the fourth monkey_ off the face of the planet if they were caught poking around where they shouldn't be?"

Darien swallowed the coffee with some difficulty, having to fight the urge to do an impressive spit-take across the table. He wished he'd thought of that _before_ passing Fallon's name to Alex. The last thing he wanted was to get Fallon killed over some info that Alex might have very well found on her own. Yet, beside him, Bobby tapped his chin thoughtfully, a hint of a smile crossing his face, as if thinking, _'would that be such a bad thing?'_ Which, for all Darien knew, was _exactly_ what was wandering through Bobby's mind. He still had a deep-seated dislike for Fallon that Darien simply could not comprehend. Now, however, was not the time to chastise his friend on his personal opinions.

"I want this matter handled swiftly. Agent Monroe is a valuable member of this Agency, and we take care of our own." The Official's gaze boded ill for anyone who suggested otherwise.

Not that Darien was going to argue, but he still couldn't resist a jibe that took copious liberties with the phrase 'take care of.' "Like you planned to take care of me when the counteragent failed? I'm bettin' she'd rather fend for herself."

Eberts sucked in a breath at the same time Bobby let fly with a low whistle. Claire paled and said, "Darien," in an appropriately shocked voice.

The Official waved it off. "No need, Doctor, Darien is quite right. If 'take care of' means removing a problem permanently, then I will not hesitate to do so." He aimed his beady eyes on Darien, who met the steely gaze without flinching. "And he would do well to remember that."

Darien stood and gave a mocking straight-armed salute and said, "Sieg heil," which made Claire shake her head in obvious dismay. He picked up his cup and turned to Bobby, "Duty calls."

"Howdy Doody, maybe," Bobby grumbled as he slid the chair back to stand.

"I want regular updates, Bobby," the Official ordered, acting as if Darien's tweaking hadn't bothered him in the least, which was entirely possible.

"You'll get 'em, Chief," Bobby assured their boss and turned to glare at Darien, who was completely unrepentant.

Bobby waited until they were down the hall, heading towards the stairwell, before saying anything. "Sieg heil? That was low even for you."

Darien shrugged. "Not much in the mood for having my strings pulled these days, I guess."

Bobby snorted and swung open the stairwell door. "You never did, my friend. Just keep in mind that the Chief don't make idle threats."

"Tell me something I don't know," Darien snarked, taking the stairs two at a time up to the third floor where Alex's office was located. Might as well start there since it was closest.

"True, true," Bobby agreed, then in a sudden change of topic, "So, who've you been sowing your wild oats with?"

Darien paused mid-step, which nearly caused Bobby to run into him. "Sowing my wild oats?" he echoed, as he began to move again. "What are you talking about?"

Bobby grinned. "Oh nothing, really. Keepy just mentioned that you'd had a few late nights, is all. And you've been strutting around with this cat that ate the canary smirk on your face for weeks now, so..."

Darien ducked his head as he topped the stairs, making the effort to appear totally innocent. If only Bobby knew exactly why he'd had more than a few late nights recently. Actually, it was far better that he didn't; there was no way in hell he'd approve. For, while there was most definitely a woman involved, there were no 'wild oats' being sown. Oh no, Darien was putting his former skills as a thief and those he'd acquired from the Agency to _very_ good use. He'd learned a few new tricks as well, which was all to the good considering how often Bobby let Darien fend for himself these days. What surprised him the most though was how little it bothered him. Yeah, there had been times he needed advice or assistance in a situation, but not often. For the first time since he'd been stuck with the neurotic, paranoid, pill-popping nutcase he felt like an equal, an actual partner and not some raw greenhorn who had to be led about by the nose and coddled all the time.

It was, at times, an exhilarating feeling. It was also, at times, terrifying. The lure, the temptation to simply fall, to forget all he had learned, all the good he'd done the last couple of years and join Fallon and her little group of mercenaries was always present, but so far he had resisted.

"So, Claire was right. You _have_ been getting some." Bobby rubbed his hands in glee, obviously looking forward to hearing all the intimate details of the supposed tryst.

"Sorry to disappoint, my friend, but there's only one person sleeping in my bed." Just so it was clear, Darien poked himself in the sternum.

Bobby chuckled. "A bed ain't the only place to have sex, my friend. Kitchen tables are perfectly adequate." The sly grin on his face pretty much guaranteed that he'd verified that for himself. "Or so I've been told."

Darien snorted softly. "Hobbes, I barely have a kitchen, let alone a table."

Bobby frowned slightly. "So you been going to her place instead," he finally said, plainly not yet ready to surrender.

Darien stopped, the door to Alex's office in sight at the end of the hall, and turned and set his hands on Bobby's shoulders to make certain he had his full attention. Darien wanted Bobby's mind away from this little sexual fishing expedition before being forced to reveal things better left unsaid. "Hobbes, I am not seeing anyone. Got it?"

Bobby just shook his head, not buying it for a second.

"'Sides when would I have time to meet someone, huh?"

Bobby pondered that for a long moment. "Fine, don't tell me." He stepped away, leaving Darien's hands to sit in mid-air, the coffee sloshing and forcing him to shift to prevent spillage. He still needed the caffeine for functionality. "This is not over, pal. I'm gonna find out who she is," Bobby warned, a finger stabbing the towards the ceiling to emphasize his point.

Darien sighed and rolled his eyes, trailing after as they wended their way down the remainder of the hall. "Can't find what's not there," he pointed out as Bobby tried the door to find it, much as expected, locked.

Darien handed his cup over and dropped to his knees, lockpicks magically appearing in his hands. Within seconds, the tumblers clicked into place and he swung the door open.

"You always carry those?" Bobby asked as he drank the latte.

Darien grinned, "Never leave home without 'em," and rescued the remainder of the coffee. Bobby had managed to inhale most of it, leaving Darien with nothing but the dregs and foam. He debated bitching for an instant, but decided to let it pass considering how many times he'd snurched the last of Bobby's fries or nachos.

The interior was the usual over-stated elegance that was a marked contrast from the rest of the building. Darien moved towards the desk, and began to rifle through the contents of the drawer while Bobby moved to the computer station and turned on the impressive machine. Darien found little of value, just the usual pens, paperclips, and such. He'd been hoping to find a calendar or date book, but Alex's fondness for her PDA pretty much killed that hope.

"Fawkes, get over here," called Bobby distractedly. It looked like he'd been successful in accessing Alex's hard drive.

"Whatcha got?" Darien loomed over Bobby's shoulder, reading the names of the assorted files scrolling by in the Finder window.

"All sorts of crap. Any ideas on what's useful?" Bobby kept his eyes focused on the files moving down the screen.

"Nope," Darien admitted, "but I know where to start."

"Oh really?" Bobby swiveled in the chair, the slight sneer in his voice unmistakable. "Let's see what you got, hotshot."

Darien didn't take the disbelief to heart, since until recently he had been at a complete loss when it came to computers. He still wasn't up to Bobby's level, never mind geek-boy Eberts, but he was learning; both out of necessity and self-interest. Darien reached about Bobby to take control of the mouse, moving the cursor to the bitten apple in the upper left corner of the screen. With a click, the drop down menu appeared and he slid down the list to highlight 'Recent Items.' A secondary menu appeared, at the top of which was 'skeleton key.' Darien, of course, recognized the name for the custom cipher program _the fourth monkey_ supplied to its clients. He had a copy of his own, specially tailored to the specific encryption pattern used to make the data secure. His version would not decrypt Alex's files and vice versa. Just another feature _the fourth monkey_ provided.

Darien clicked on the program and waited for it to start.

"Fawkes..."

"Hobbes..."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Startin' a program," Darien said, a grin attempting to curve his lips upwards.

"I can see that, ya mook. What I wanna know is why?" Bobby was losing his patience fast.

"'Cause it was the last thing Alex ran. Figured it might give us some clue as to what she was doing." In fact, Darien was certain of it, but he wasn't about to explain his inside track. He clicked on the 'open recent' option once the program was up and running and the decrypted file obligingly appeared on the desktop. It was a report, but it took less than a second to realize they were on the right track, what with Stark's name at the top of the page and all.

"Son of a bitch," Bobby muttered, as he reclaimed control of the mouse and scrolled through the report. He then opened the remaining recent documents and read them far too fast for Darien to keep up. But a single word caught his eye: Brandon.

"Alex's son?"

"Looks like," Bobby said, most of his attention still on the words before him. "Monroe, you idiot, it's gotta be a trap."

"What's a trap?" Darien asked even though he was pretty sure he knew.

Bobby sat back, bringing the initial report back to the front. "Well, according to this Mrs. Stark..."

"Eleanor."

"...is coming to town with the kid to meet with daddy-dearest..." he paused to double-check something, "...the day Alex was supposed to fly to Boston. Bets she ditched the flight to go after Stark?"

Darien shook his head. "Suckers bet. Of course she did, it's her son."

"Fawkes, it's a frickin' trap," Bobby complained.

"She knows that, Bobby." Darien turned away from the computer to look over the impersonal office, wondering why she hadn't asked for help.

"Why would she take such a stupid risk?" Bobby griped. "She knows better than to go into something like this alone. She's smarter than this."

"If it was your kid, what would you do?" Darien asked, glancing over his shoulder at his partner who suddenly sported a very serious look. "You'd take the chance it _wasn't _a trap, 'cause there's no choice."

Bobby rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, you're right. Damn it. The trail is two days cold now, ain't no way we're gonna find her."

"We gotta try." Darien stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the desk. "Where do we start?"

"La Playa, Townsend dock."


	3. Chapter 2

-----

Butterflies. They all wore butterflies in one manner or another, and it bothered Tabitha to a degree she hadn't thought possible. It was as if they were suggesting that they were complete, the ultimate goal, and that she... and that she was still undeveloped and in need of further evolution. The golden double-helix she wore proved otherwise.

"_Tabitha, is there a problem?_" Sharon's voice was crystal clear and carried perfectly across the intervening distance via the communications satellite that had been put into orbit nearly two years ago.

"No. Only..." Tabitha cut herself off, wishing she had stopped at the single word.

"She does not like the amount of autonomy you have granted us." Delphi spoke without a noticeable accent, her English flat, and lacking color.

Tabitha shot a look of pure venom at Delphi, not appreciating having her intentions read without her express permission. "What I do not like is... _them_," she hissed the word, unable to hide her dislike for their kind, "free to run about off their leash."

Neither the couple, nor their bodyguards, reacted to her commentary. After all, it wasn't as if they were truly of Chrysalis. Tabitha knew, as many of the higher ranked members did, how invaluable their DNA was to the ultimate goal, the fact that it came with unexpected and unwelcome side-effects was unfortunate indeed. They had their place, their uses within the hierarchy, but were far from the supermen that they had once been thought to be. Personally, she had hoped to never deal with their kind face to face, as they caused her to feel a sudden urge to violence in the name of genetic cleansing. They were anathema, a black mark on the otherwise pristine perfection that was Chrysalis.

"_Tabitha, it is necessary._" Sharon's voice barely hid her irritation. Clearly, she was not in the mood to be challenged, which told Tabitha that whatever was going on was of the utmost importance.

"_You will assist them in any manner they deem necessary._"

"Sharon..." Tabitha instantly regretted allowing the word to escape past her lips.

"_Assez_!" Sharon barked. "_You **will** do this or I will replace you as head of the sector. Comprenez-vous?_"

The last thing Tabitha wanted was to lose her position; she had her own set of goals and had no intention of forgoing them over a pair of genetic throwbacks. "Oui, Je comprends," she said contritely.

"_Bon. Delphi, Lethe, move swiftly to resolve this._" It was an order, but one that had obviously been repeated many times by the lack of reaction on the couple's features.

"As you wish, Sharon," Lethe said, his voice soft yet strong, like silk over steel.

There was a click followed by that deadening silence. Tabitha disconnected at her end, not pleased with the way the conversation had gone by any means. She took an additional moment to gather herself, still furious and blaming _them_ for her loss of face. Threats from Sharon were never anything but serious. She calmed herself, her dislike should... no, _would_ not prevent her from working with the pair. Sharon had made it eminently clear that they and their brethren were invaluable tools to the cause and that they would continue to be used so long as she were in power. Tabitha couldn't fault her superior's reasoning, given how Chrysalis had prospered in that time. There had been others who had kept them locked in their mountain compound, ignored and forgotten, but truth to tell, those who followed that path never reigned for very long. The wheel inevitably turned and brighter, more open minds would once again come into control.

It was, Tabitha decided, far wiser to learn the use of them.

"What is it you need?"

Delphi smiled and glanced at Lethe, who deferred to her even though he appeared to be the senior of the pair. "Access to your files and a place to work, for now." She stood in one smooth flowing motion. "Oh, and to arrange a meeting with Jared Stark."

"Jared? Why?" Tabitha asked in curiosity. The man was the former head of Sector G, whom she had replaced, and while he did as he was ordered, it was to the letter only. He and those who followed him clearly had their own agenda and made little effort to hide that fact. If Delphi were after him, Tabitha would be only happy to oblige.

Lethe set a hand on Delphi's shoulder, preventing whatever it was she was going to say.

"It is not necessary for you to know," he stated, voice utterly devoid of emotion.

"And who judges that necessity?" Tabitha questioned, not enjoying being kept out of the decisions.

"I do," Delphi asserted.

"I'm sure Sharon would find that interesting." The challenge had been made, but it didn't faze the woman in the least.

"Feel free to contact her." Delphi waved casually at the phone that had so recently been connected to that very person.

Tabitha managed to hide the wince at her bluff being called. Picking up that phone was the last thing she was about to do. Apparently, confidence was not something Delphi lacked, and what power she had been granted she was unafraid to wield.

"When do you wish to meet with Jared?" She quickly abandoned the previous conversation as the lost cause it was.

"Tomorrow morning will do," Delphi answered, a hand shifting to rest on her hip. She tilted her head, the pupils of her eyes dilating noticeably though the light level had not changed. "I think I shall begin with you."

Tabitha swallowed with a throat gone suddenly dry. This was what she had hoped to avoid at all costs. "Delphi, I..."

Delphi strode forward, her bodyguards a step behind, and placed her palms flat on the surface of the desk. "_You_ have no choice."

With fear coursing through her, Tabitha nodded.

-----

The briskly blowing breeze carried the aromatic scent of decaying fish and the squawking calls of wheeling seagulls that were attempting to purloin tasty bits of the not so fresh seafood. The birds were thankfully far enough away that there was no risk of a surprise falling from above, but that didn't stop Fawkes from grumbling about it.

"Worse than freaking pigeons," he muttered, eyeing the birds warily, hands at the ready to protect his hair should one even contemplate flying towards him.

"Fawkes, think you could keep your mind on the job," Hobbes sniped, not really in the mood to deal with Fawkes and his vanities.

"Huh? Oh yeah." Fawkes cast one last wary glance at the circling vultures, then turned his attention to the area about them. Though a stone's throw away from whatever had died along the water's edge, this area was decidedly upscale. Here there were a dozen high-end boathouses, the boats able to sail right inside and out of the view of anyone not wealthy enough to lay eyes upon them. They were for all intents and purposes estates for the sailing set, the upper levels of the buildings complete with balconies, chimneys, decks; excess and overindulgence taken to the extreme. The color scheme varied but many had chosen to mimic the white with blue accents of the Sand Diego Yacht Club. Their facilities were just a mile north, the flag mounted atop the clubhouse snapping jauntily in the wind.

There were hundreds of boats docked at the Yacht club, but here none were visible, there wasn't so much as a stray scrap of paper or pelican dropping to mar the gleaming perfection of the pilings.

"Crap. The place looks like it's been wiped clean," Fawkes said, echoing Hobbes' own thoughts on the matter. "If Alex was here..." The words trailed off. No point in stating the obvious - there was almost no chance the trail could be picked up from here.

"Not here, Fawkes, but somewhere nearby." Hobbes studied the buildings flanking the Townsend dock as a sniper would. Monroe was no fool, and would have found herself a place to hole up and observe the situation before making her move. Her automatic reaction to rush in had cooled since that first near-miss at retrieving her son at Camp Teanaustaye. He was certain she wouldn't make a move until she saw her son _and_ the opportunity. He was also certain Stark would give her both and only then would the jaws of the trap close about her.

Fawkes pointed at the upper level of the building to the right, a window was open, the wind causing the curtains to shift. "There. She'd be able to see the whole area including inside the target."

"All right, pal, how'd she get in?" Hobbes asked, not questioning the assertion, but wondering how far he'd gotten in figuring it out.

Fawkes shrugged. "Swim? Just gotta duck under the door." He peered in the nearest window, hands cupped about his face to reduce the glare. "Or she could have just driven in."

"What?" Hobbes joined Fawkes with the peering, noting the older model Bonneville, sporting multiple dings and a peeling paint job that did not fit with a multimillion dollar ark parked next to it. "One of these things just doesn't belong," he muttered as he moved towards the nearest door.

"You been watching Sesame Street in the mornings again?" Fawkes said around a chuckle as Hobbes jimmied the door open. Considering the money sunk into the place, you'd think the security would be more than an off-the-shelf deadbolt. With judicious use of his Leatherman he forced it open and swung the door into the dimly-lit interior.

"I told ya before, it's the only good thing on at that hour." Hobbes gazed about the dock/garage, as that was exactly what it was; a place for the owner to park and maintain his toys.

Fawkes slipped past, straight to the car and proceeded to ruin any prints that might have been left behind.

"Fawkes! Could you at least pretend this is a potential crime scene?" Hobbes found it amazing how fast someone with that many smarts could forget something so basic.

Fawkes held up his hand, his fingers ending at the first knuckle. "Gimme some credit. Thief, remember?"

The smartass had Quicksilvered the print side of his fingers, which meant he wasn't likely to mess up any evidence should this not turn out to be a false trail.

There was a snicker from the interior of the car where Fawkes had ensconced himself. "You go, girl."

"What?" Hobbes grumbled as he leaned on the window of the open door. "Eberts would have found it if she'd rented a car."

"Hitting Budget or Rent-a-Wreck ain't the only way to score a ride, Hobbes," Fawkes said all smug and cheery. He reached under the steering column and proudly showed the creative rewiring. "She hot-wired it."

Now that was a surprise. "Monroe stole a car." Not entirely certain he believed his own conclusion, he repeated, "Monroe stole a car," but the repetition didn't make it any more real. He shook his head. "She's been hanging around you too long."

Fawkes snorted in amusement. "I'll take that as a compliment." He leaned over to the passenger side and began fishing around, poking in the glove box, under the seat and the various nooks and crannies, looking for anything that might give them a hint as to whom last drove the car. Stuck between the driver's seat and the center console he found a piece of paper. "Efficient as always." He handed it over to Hobbes.

It was a printout of an online map, complete with directions to the dock house next door. It could have been printed out by anyone, however, there were notes written in the margins in handwriting both men recognized.

"Son of a bitch." Hobbes shook his head, wanting to accuse Monroe of being a total idiot for going into this alone. He, hell, _they_ would have helped if she'd given them half a chance. That's what partners were for, after all. Monroe was still a little too self-sufficient for his taste, but she was also damned good at what she did. It just so happened that what she did was just about everything. "All right, let's check upstairs and see what she could see."

Fawkes shrugged and slithered out of the car. "It wasn't like they grabbed her here."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Need to cover all the bases, my friend." Hobbes surreptitiously patted his Colt, as he headed for the stairs that led to the upper floor. It turned out to be an oversized apartment that was richly furnished, including a well-stocked bar; a place to stay when the owners were too lazy to drive to their local mansion. Of course, this might just be a vacation spot for the owner, but he doubted it. Someone with the money for a set-up like this probably had a house in every port of call.

Randomly opened cabinets and drawers told an even more interesting story, especially once the stash of mismatched women's undergarments was found. It looked like this was a hot spot for dalliances and trysts, a place to bring vapid, vain women just to add another notch to the proverbial bedpost. The owner clearly had ego issues if he needed trophies to prove his prowess. Like these people had nothing better to do.

"Find anything, Fawkes?"

"Would the term 'jackpot' do?"

Hobbes followed the voice into a secondary bedroom were Fawkes was standing before an open window, the very one he'd pointed to outside, gazing out through a pair of high-end binoculars. "Clear view into the dock house next door - nice big conveniently placed window and everything. Boat's name is... Kafka." He lowered the glasses. "Jeeze, guys, could you be _more_ obvious?"

"What do you mean?" Hobbes asked as he sidled up next to his partner. If he didn't know better he would have sworn the window angle had been set up just for this.

"Kafka wrote a book called _Metamorphosis_," Fawkes answered, returning the binoculars to his eyes.

"Oh." Hobbes had no clue what that meant. "So?"

"So," Fawkes said, sounding put-upon. "Chrysalis is the stage where a caterpillar changes into a butterfly." He turned to look at Hobbes, still using the binocs. "A metamorphosis, get it?"

"Huh."

Fawkes lowered the glasses and gave Hobbes the evil eye. "That's it? Just 'huh'?"

"Not like you expect 'em to have a sense of humor, is all." Hobbes pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Hey, Eberts, need you to run down the registration on a boat named Kafka, at the Townsend dock in La Playa." He paused, listening. "Uh, it's registered out of..."

"Brazil," Fawkes supplied.

"Brazil. Yeah, we think it's Chrysalis." Hobbes lowered his voice. "Yeah, she was. Four o'clock; we'll be there." He snapped the phone shut and put it away.

"Bossman wants us back for tea time?"

"Got it in one." Hobbes glanced down at the floor where assorted pieces of fancy electronics that had been hastily discarded by Monroe bore mute testimony to her presence. There was a parabolic mike, headset, and a digital recorder. "Bingo." He crouched down and picked up the compact device.

"Was his name-o," Fawkes sang, still fascinated with the binoculars. "Whatcha got?"

"Evidence, I hope." Hobbes skipped back to the beginning and pressed play.

There was a lot of noise, the mike having picked up the wind and every rustle and footstep, but the voices were still clear.

"._... to see you again, my dear,"_ That was unmistakably Jarod Stark's voice wafting tinnily our of the tiny speaker. "_And how is my big boy?_"

That was followed by a high-pitched chortle and a crowed, "_Dah-dee!_"

---

Delphi resisted the urge to wash her hands, to attempt to scrub clean that which had been in direct contact with Stark. The stain left behind was most assuredly not something that could be washed away with something so simple as soap and water, as it had been left on the inside of her flesh, scored into her soul. She had been in contact with far worse minds over the years, but something about his caused her stomach to roil in unhappiness. He was most certainly a prime example of Chrysalis breeding, with an ego that often overrode what little common sense he had. And when it came to his progeny, common sense became nonexistent.

Not only had he allowed the breeding project to be discovered and dozens of children stolen from the camps but the host mother to his own child was fully aware of both the boy and Chrysalis. To make matters even worse she was a Federal Agent, quite willing to use her power to thwart Chrysalis and Stark every chance she could.

In retrospect, it was obvious what had caused the future shift. The host mother had successfully retrieved her son from an indoctrination center and then, thanks in part to a diabolical and perfectly executed plan, had given up the child to Stark's wife on the mistaken belief that the woman was intent on leaving Chrysalis for good. _That_ was the cusp and it could not be changed. Damage control was all Delphi could hope to accomplish here.

Lethe came out of the room, a frown upon his features and weariness in his deep blue eyes.

"All went well?" she asked of him.

"Yes, he believes it was nothing more than an introductory meeting that Sharon requested." Lethe stepped up to her and rested his forehead against hers. "We still do not have all we need."

"I am aware. His immediate future has too many potentials; there was no one clear path." She set her hands upon his hips, wishing he would take the last few hours from her and replace them with something far less disturbing, that he would, just this once allow her the peace of forgetfulness.

"Do we have enough?" he questioned, sliding his face alongside hers, their cheeks brushing gently against one another, his breath tickling the hairs by her ear.

"Perhaps. _She_ is alive, but may not be for long. He sees her as little more than an annoyance, something to be swept aside and forgotten." Some of the potentials she'd seen had similar features and that fact was among them. But Delphi knew what a false perception it was. Those that were genetically normal still greatly outnumbered those of Chrysalis, and had an important role to play before true success could be achieved. Thinking of them as inconsequential, as mayflies, would be disastrous if things weren't changed in the here and now.

"She is needed to correct the timeline," Lethe stated, hands curving about her face, relaxing her, distracting her from the immediacy of what she'd seen.

"I... I'm not sure," Delphi admitted, eyes slipping shut as she melted into his embrace.

He was silent for several minutes, his mere presence cleansing her mind, washing away the lingering residue that had made her skin crawl in discomfort. Suddenly, he stepped away, a serious look upon his face as their eyes met. "Then you must read her."

Delphi nodded. "I have come to that conclusion myself, but first we must locate her."

"And in the meantime...," he prompted.

"In the meantime, there are others to read, including his wife." She turned to Cooper, a man who had been with her for over two decades now. "Did you find them?"

"Yes. It was not nearly as difficult as we were led to expect." Cooper was exceptionally good at his job, which was far more than the simple bodyguard that most thought him to be.

"It rarely is," Lethe pointed out. "Del, can you do this?"

She rubbed the side of her head. "There is no choice; the window of opportunity is closing rapidly."

"You have seen this?" It wasn't often Lethe showed surprise, but this seemed to warrant it.

She shook her head, blonde hair swinging about and hiding her face momentarily. "No, not specifically, but I... I _feel_ it." She closed her eyes, letting random images flicker through her mind. "I don't yet have enough..." She was unable to keep the frustration from her voice. She had seen what would happen to her and Lethe should this path continue unchanged. She turned to Cooper. "Take us to the wife."


	4. Chapter 3

-----

The camera made its polite hum as the zoom was adjusted yet again, the small sign to the right of the main entrance suddenly sharp, clear and easily read. Fertility Focus Corporation was what was carved into the shiny gold plaque, announcing to the world that they made babies. What it failed to mention was that the babies they made were genetically modified embryos that bore no relationship to the 'parents.' That they did this worldwide was minor thing compared to the horror of what they then did to the children after they'd been born and returned to the loving bosom of Chrysalis. Mindless drones for an organization that believed they were to rule the world after some great cataclysm befell it.

There were times Darien wished this were one of the things he didn't need to know. Bobby was right; ignorance _was_ bliss.

Bobby harrumphed; he'd gotten irritated at the various sounds the camera made an hour ago. Darien turned to look at Bobby, eye still glued to the viewfinder, but lowered the camera quickly when presented with an extreme close-up of Bobby's right temple, complete with tiny hairs coming out of his skin.

"We just gonna sit here all day?"

"No, we're gonna sit here till we see Stark," Hobbes grouched, making minute and needless adjustments to the equipment.

Darien huffed. "There's gotta be a better way." He sat up straighter, his look brightening. "What say I take a little stroll inside, on the QT, so to speak."

"No."

"Just a quickie? I'll be in and out before you know it. Promise," Darien whined. He'd take a beating by Chrysalis goons over the boredom he was currently mired in.

"No."

"But..."

"No. Crap, Fawkes, this might not be the most exciting part, but it's the job." Hobbes swiveled about, with that wrinkle between his eyebrows that meant he was truly pissed. "We got confirmation that he's in there, so we wait till he comes out. It's that simple."

"I know that," Darien snarked, "but two and a half hours of the silent treatment makes me cranky." Not quite accurate, but every time he tried to start a conversation, Bobby would kill it by either not responding or giving curt one word answers that discouraged Darien from pressing on.

Bobby's brows shot up. "Silent treatment? What're you talking about?"

"You. Me. No talkie," Darien explained, keeping it short and to the point.

Bobby seemed to find that most amusing. "No talkie? What happened to the wannabe philosopher?"

"He got tired of being shut down by his partner." Darien made sure to shove humor into his tone. He finally had Bobby talking and didn't want him to stop.

At the word 'partner' the strangest expression crawled across Bobby's face and there was no way Darien wasn't going to call him on it. "What? I'm not good enough to be your partner no more?"

Bobby's face fell. "Try the other way 'round, pal," he muttered, then turned away.

_That_ was a hell of a shock for Darien; the supremely over-confident super-spook Bobby Hobbes suddenly thinking himself not good enough for the likes of an ex-thief turned part-time mercenary? Was he a total idiot?

"Hobbes?"

"What?"

Darien wanted to throttle the man. "Now would be a good time to make with the 'talkie'."

Hobbes focused his attention on the clinic entrance across the street. "About what?"

"This attitude of yours." Though Darien had to admit it wasn't like it was anything new. No, this had been festering for quite a while now.

Bobby burst out in rueful laughter. "Attitude? Me? Take a look in the mirror there, pal. You ain't exactly been helping the sitch."

"Me?" Darien squawked, projecting an air of hurt innocence. "I've always pushed the Fatman's buttons..."

Bobby shook his head. "Not that, genius."

Darien sighed in frustration. "Then what? You guys told me to go get a life outside of work, so I did."

Bobby shook his head more violently. "Not that. Unless..." He paused, thinking, his brow furrowing deeply upon reaching a conclusion. "You been hanging out with _her_ ain't ya?"

"Who?" Darien regretted the lone word as Bobby always assumed they were efforts at distraction at best, and outright lies at worst.

"_Her_. O'Neill and that hoodlum hang-out," Bobby shouted, loud in the close confines of the van.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Darien shouted right back in exasperation.

"Everything, Fawkes. She's pulling you towards the dark side, my friend. Mark my words, you'll regret it. Not today, not tomorrow..."

"But someday. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it. Thing is, my friend, it's my life and outside work I can do what I want, remember?" A low burning anger seeped into his voice.

"You're right, it is." Bobby went cold, not backing off so much as freezing in place to create a barrier that could not be gone around on the subject.

Darien was more than willing to take the draw on that one. "Back to topic; what's this about me not wanting to be your partner?"

Bobby crumpled, shoulders slumping dramatically. "Nuthin'."

It was Darien's turn to snort in derision. "Cough it up, Hobbes, or I'll just ask Claire."

Bobby's head snapped about with a beady-eyed glare fixed in place. "You wouldn't."

"In a heartbeat. Now spill." Darien wasn't kidding, he _would_ go to Claire to find out what was going on in his little tiger's head.

Bobby squirmed, clearly not wanting to have this conversation. "You're a good agent Fawkes. Had a knack for it from day one, but..."

"But?" Darien prompted when the silence went on for more than 10 seconds.

"You been working with Monroe a lot more. Higgens and O'Connell too," Bobby finally said, sounding defeated. "You don't need me no more."

_'Don't need...'_ Darien blinked in confusion. "Hobbes, did you take your meds, 'cause you ain't making sense."

Bobby frowned. "Always with the meds. Could you, just for once, take me seriously?" The frustration was blatant, but Darien was not in the mood to be led about by a sudden attack of Hobbesian paranoia.

"Kinda hard to when you start seeing things that ain't there. 'Sides me, that is." Darien tossed off a wan smile. "We're partners, Hobbes, ain't nothing gonna change that."

The last was emphatic, but did nothing to pull Bobby from the rut he'd apparently fallen into. "That's my point, Fawkes, we ain't part... Crap, look who's come to play." He got the parabolic mike up and aimed at the group now standing outside the clinic.

Darien brought up the camera, adjusted the focus, and started snapping pictures.

Jared Stark, his number one goon Connor, and several others had exited the building and were having a less than civil conversation on the patch of perfectly manicured grass that separated the walkway from the parking lot. After snapping a couple of Stark and Connor, Darien focused on the newcomers. Two, a man and a woman, were in non-standard Chrysalis clone-wear and had a pair of bookends that were clearly their bodyguards. He got close ups and full body shots of the quartet. The matching tattoos the pair sported caught his eye; it was a new twist in the riddle of Chrysalis.

"Who're the newbies?"

Bobby shook his head and flipped a switch that allowed the conversation to be heard via a cheap speaker mounted in back.

_"... kind should have been exterminated,"_ Stark growled, apparently not overly fond of their 'kind.'

_"I could argue the same,"_ the blonde female stated, her voice cool and calm.

Her voice caused goosebumps to break out on Darien's arms.

_"Without **our kind** you would not exist,"_ the male spoke, his tone barren of any emotion whatsoever.

It made Darien's skin crawl even more violently. "Who the hell are they?" he questioned, not really expecting an answer.

_"Those war-time experiments only confirmed what we already knew. **You** are a mistake,"_ Stark sneered.

"Dunno, Fawkes, but they have the cajones to stand up to Stark, and that there makes them okay in my book... for now." Bobby glanced over at Darien. "Did you get pics of 'em?"

"Yep. I don't think they're Chrysalis though," Darien said as he scrolled through the images on the camera's LCD screen.

"Why not?" Bobby asked as the trading of insults continued unabated.

"No pretty gold pins. The mooks with 'em are wearing them, but they're weird; have wings or something," Darien explained, turning to look out the window. "Looks like the party is breaking up."

_"... go back to your compound and stay there,"_ Connor tossed off as he followed Stark to his vehicle.

"Time to go." Bobby quickly stowed the gear, slid into the driver's seat, and started the van.

Darien buckled himself into the passenger's seat, suspecting the ride was going to get rough sooner rather than later. He made sure to secure the camera with the all important photographs just as Bobby pulled out into traffic, several cars behind Stark.

They wove in and out of traffic, being careful to remain far enough behind Stark to hopefully, go unnoticed. After almost 10 minutes of driving, they pulled onto I-5 and began to accelerate, forcing Bobby to follow suit. They continued to keep their distance, staying at least a quarter mile behind and never in the same lane, if at all possible.

So, Darien was quite surprised when Stark's car suddenly pulled to the right lane and slammed on the brakes.

"Crap, he made us," Bobby snarled, not slowing the van. As they neared the car, the rear window rolled down and the barrel of a gun appeared. Bobby had zero time to do anything besides swear vociferously.

There was a soft pop and the van slewed violently to the right, slamming Darien into Bobby as if there was no seatbelt to hold him in place. With screeching metal and burning rubber, the van fishtailed into the breakdown lane and then onto the grass verge. It bumped along for several eternal seconds before coming to a sudden halt, shoving Darien forward into the dashboard.

It was only then he remembered to breathe.

"Well, if this is the afterlife, I'm disappointed."

Bobby chuckled. "You and me both, my friend."

The sound of a car horn caused both men to look back towards the road. There the black sedan they had been following was rolling past and Stark's smiling countenance waving at them, clearly enjoying the situation. They picked up speed and disappeared into the traffic.

"Y'know, I really don't like him," Darien stated.

Bobby rolled his eyes and pulled out his cell phone.

---

"What do you think they were after?" Connor asked as the crappy tan van disappeared behind them.

"More likely a who, and that would be Agent Monroe." Jared showed no concern at the Agency misfits sniffing around. He knew he'd be at the top of the suspect list and had planned accordingly. "Let them try to find her; we'll lead them a merry chase and then," he mimed a trap snapping shut with his hands, "we'll take them out of the game as well. I could do without the thorn in my side."

"They are rather annoying, aren't they? Like gnats," Connor said, amused.

"And like gnats they have short attention spans. Something new will come along to distract them." While he would have loved to spend more time contemplating various methods to eliminate Fawkes, Jared had far more interesting things to do. Dealing with Agent Monroe, for example.

The driver pulled into the parking lot of a three story chrome and glass miracle of modern engineering. Above the main entrance in a flowing script was the word _Archangel_. This was the new headquarters of Chrysalis' security arm, created six months after the destruction of the San Diego Cerberus offices. Thanks to the Agency it was deemed too risky to continue to use the existing business, so they were shut down, restructured, and recreated. With great success. So far, the Agency had no knowledge of its existence.

The car stopped near the entrance and both Connor and Stark exited, heading to the gracefully arched entryway. The lobby was even more impressive than the exterior. A wide reception desk was manned by two men and a woman, all identically dressed and all fully capable of dealing with unexpected guests.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark," the woman greeted. The smile curving her lips patently false, which did not bother Jared in the least. She handed him a slim file, while one of the men logged his arrival into the computer. "Mr. Ishito has agreed to the terms and would like to schedule a meeting."

Jared couldn't help but be pleased by that bit of news. They had been trying to get an in with Ishito for two years. "Excellent, make the necessary arrangements."

"Here or Tokyo?" she asked.

"Tokyo. He'll be more comfortable on his home ground." To some it would appear a weakness, giving up the tactical advantage, but Ishito would see it as a sign of respect and it would foster the beginnings of trust.

"As you wish, sir." She returned to her seat and set about to do so.

Jared turned left, followed by Connor, and was buzzed through a set of doors. They walked past several rooms that were ostensibly for conferences, if you ignored the heavily reinforced walls, the two-way glass and the not so subtle decorating scheme of 'interrogation room.' The security systems were well hidden but extensive both in the rooms and the in hallway, right down to thermal sensors; a precaution taken since the Agency and Darien Fawkes had a hand in the destruction of its predecessor. It was only a matter of time before they learned of this new facility and it was always best to be prepared. At the end of the hall was an elevator with an electronic pad that Jared pressed his thumb against to be scanned. The light turned green and the doors slid open to allow both men to step inside the car. Connor pressed the six. This elevator only went in one direction from this level and it was _not_ up.

Here the security was more obvious, as well as the means to deal with intruders, or escapees, should they make it this far. At the press of a button the car could be flooded in seconds with a variety of gasses that would immobilize those inside; a creative vacuum system would then pump the gas out, leaving bodies - unconscious or dead, depending on the specific gas used - behind. Gas masks or similar gear would be of no use as some of the gasses were designed to be absorbed through the skin. Only someone in a completely self-contained HAZMAT suit stood a chance. The suits, however, were easily penetrated by projectiles, which is why there were also weapons mounted in the ceiling. Messy, but effective when necessary.

The car slid to a smooth stop and the doors opened. They stepped out into a huge, dimly lit room. In all directions the walls curved, the ceiling arching to a peak some 25 feet above the floor. A giant hemisphere carved into the earth with reinforced concrete and steel. In the center of the room, some 15 feet away from the walls, was another hemisphere, the walls rising 10 feet before the curved roof began; a smaller hemisphere within the existing one. While every surface of the main room was a flat non-reflective dark gray, the smaller room was all glass, modified LEXAN to be precise; virtually unbreakable by anything short of a bunker buster. And they were _smart_. Between the sheets of LEXAN was a suspended particle device tied to an electric current. When the current was 'on' the glass was perfectly transparent, when 'off' the glass was dark and completely opaque; varying the amount electricity flowing through the film allowed one to adjust the transparency to any level. For this inner room each 'section' of the wall could be changed independently allowing selective viewing of the interior. Currently the majority of the panels were blacked out, blocking the interior from sight.

Scattered about the main room were tables loaded with various devices, some surveillance, some far less innocuous. The carefully arranged vials and syringes on one table, gave a hint as to the real purpose of the room.

People moved about, watching monitors, working at computers, at any of a dozen tasks.

Upon noticing Jared's arrival, one man quickly ended his discussion with two others and hurriedly approached. "Mr. Stark, we weren't expecting you until later," Dr. Burroughs stated, looking irritated at the invasion of his inner sanctum.

"Plans change. The timetable has been moved up." Jared walked towards the glass house, with the doctor trailing behind him. Coming to the first of the clear windows he gazed at his prize. Strapped into the utilitarian interrogation chair was Alex Monroe. Her eyes were closed, but even if they had been open, she would not have been able to see him; the lights were focused in such a way as to render the walls about her completely invisible. A delightful irony not lost on Jared. They were also bright enough to temporarily blind her should she look at them for any length of time, and were therefore more than adequate for use in sleep deprivation. When the light failed there were any number of other, ever more creative, methods to keep her conscious.

Each of her limbs was held securely in the precise position wanted. She could wiggle her torso no more than a few centimeters, her arms and legs mere millimeters, but her head was given freedom for whatever good it would do her. There were electrodes attached here and there to monitor her current state. The EEG showed that while her eyes were closed, she was far from asleep. There were bruises on her arms, similar to track marks, from the injections she'd been given. Concoctions designed to confuse her mind and weaken her resolve without damaging what she knew. At the last update Jared had received, everything had been on schedule.

"Is she ready?"

"I think so," Dr. Burroughs answered.

"You think so? Doctor, I was assured you could break her. Have you done so or not?" Jared had no interest in having his time wasted, especially when that time was limited.

"She is extremely resistant to our methods," Dr. Burroughs explained. "You failed to warn us that she..."

"I expect you to do your job regardless of what _I_ do or do not know." Jared leveled a glare at the man. _He_ was in charge, not this so-called doctor who apparently couldn't even manage to complete a simple task without obfuscation. "I was informed that you were the best at this type of interrogation. Clearly that was a mistake." He turned to Connor. "Arrange for her transport..."

"Wait," Dr. Burroughs shouted, stepping between them.

"What?" Jared asked, irritation at the interruption plain on his features.

"Moving her could be dangerous right now," Dr. Burroughs sputtered, indignation in his voice, but a very real fear in his eyes.

"'Think.' 'Might.' Are you certain about anything?" Jared easily scored with that shot as the doctor drew back haughtily.

"I _know_ my job, Mr. Stark, and I would suggest you allow me to do it."

Now that impressed Jared, for while he demanded unswerving loyalty, he cared nothing for fawning toadies. Members of Chrysalis were supposed to be superior; they had best believe it for themselves. He didn't show his approval, however. "You've had three days. Her DNA may be superior to most, but it's not _that_ good."

That did the trick. The sly suggestion that a mere mortal could defeat the good doctor's techniques in which he took such pride pushed him too far. "She's not." He waved in the direction of the entrance to the interrogation room. "In fact, no few of us wonder why you went to such effort making your final decision."

Jared forced a bland look on his face. It was well known, and even encouraged to a degree, that higher ranking members _chose_ the incubator for their children, however, it was very rare that the host that had been chosen became general knowledge. Monroe being a Federal Agent had been as problematic as her DNA had been compatible. Only one in ten women who came through the clinics were suitable as incubators, and half of those were weeded out during more intensive testing. Alex Monroe had been so close to perfect for Jared and his wife that the differences had been negligible.

Eleanor had made the final decision, but Jared had been certain the moment he read the gene chart. Alex Monroe would be the incubator for his son.

That she had managed the near-impossible, found the boy and discovered Chrysalis, was a source of much annoyance. Only the fact that she and the Agency had not made that knowledge public had allowed Jared to keep the situation quiet. Sharon and others were very much aware of the tenuous ground on which he stood, but had also left him to handle it as he saw fit. So long as the secrecy was maintained, he was permitted total discretion on the matter.

Jared had decided to deal with the most immediate threat - Alex - before moving on to the Agency and Darien Fawkes. _That_ was an event he would relish. This... this was simply a necessity.

He strode to the door of the room and slid it open, Connor, grim-faced, remained outside to observe on the off-chance that Ms. Monroe pulled off another miracle and fought back. As soon as the door sealed Jared spoke, "Good morning, Agent Monroe."

Alex's eyes snapped open, proving that she'd been far from the unconsciousness she'd been pretending. "Stark," she hissed, her body tensing and testing the restraints. "Let me go, you bastard."

"After all the trouble I went to to catch you? I think not." Jared remained outside the cone of light, but her eyes followed his voice as he paced about her.

She shook her head. "You didn't know I'd be there."

Jared smiled. "You're right, I didn't _know_, but I suspected. I'm still not certain how you managed to tap into my data stream, but I must say I'm impressed." He stopped behind her and moved into the light, hands settling upon the headrest, fingers able to run through her hair should he wish. "I _did_ know you wouldn't be able to resist if the bait was tempting enough."

"You don't know me," she growled, hands jerking hard enough to make the entire chair vibrate. Whatever methods Dr. Burroughs had used had not come even close to breaking her. Jared would get nothing of value out of her right now. Still, he needed to make certain that she understood that _he_ was in control and that she had no hope of rescue.

"I know more than you think," he said slyly, coming about to face her.

"You know nothing." Ever proud and defiant, and damnably confident.

He laughed softly. "I know you are very much alone; that _no one_ even realizes you are missing."

Alex joined the laughter, but harsh, derisive. "Keep telling yourself that, you might actually begin to believe it." Her eyes narrowed. "Whatever you're going to do you best make it soon, I don't imagine you have much time to waste."

"You forget, my dear," he reached out and cupped her chin, "I have all the time in the world."

Alex glared, but refused to comment, perhaps finally realizing exactly how precarious her situation was. She would only remain alive so long as she was of use to him and currently she wasn't.

He released her and turned away, leaving her alone to contemplate her eventual fate. She most likely believed he planned to kill her, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. Oh, no, he fully intended to get everything he could from her.

Dr. Burroughs was pale and looked as if he was going to be violently ill.

"And that, doctor, is why I went to such effort. A host such as her is a rare find." With a last sneering glance at the man, Jared walked away.


	5. Chapter 4

The water was a deep blue, sunlight glinting off the swells that grew in height before crashing into the base of the cliff and sending a flash of white spray upwards in an impressive display. The room was right at the edge of the cliff, the window angled outward and making it appear that they hung out over empty space, with nothing but air and water to be seen. Lethe found the view disconcerting, actually surprised to find that he missed the forested valley where he'd spent most of his short existence. He'd been a full adult when he'd awoken just eight years ago, his only memories those of the previous version, minus the last few months due to that one's sudden and unexpected demise.

Only those memories since that date were _his_, though he could remember being a child growing up in Germany just after the war. The careful training he and the others had been given, finding Delphi and knowing she was his - their kind bonding early and for life, yet another anomalous quirk in their genetics. That he also knew he was the third to be called Lethe, that the previous ones had implanted their memories into copies in order to preserve the line, that he too one day would be replaced by another with his face and memories, was just one of the many realities he had to deal with.

He sometimes wondered if it was easier for Delphi; being the original of her line. The value of her gift granting her a level of protection that many others, especially those with more martial gifts, did not receive. It was rare they were permitted to leave their Der Harz compound, never mind travel so freely. Being out in the field with only two bodyguards was unheard of before Sharon. Of course, that might also be due to Delphi's efforts; she could be very persuasive when she wished.

Perhaps the difference was no more than her memories were _hers_. She had experienced every event, every trauma, every success personally, whereas he had not. He _knew_ the memories originated with another. It was a very odd dichotomy being a clone. You were exactly the same person, right down to the DNA, yet different. Even with the near perfect memory transfer, differences accumulated, making each succeeding copy an individual and different from those that came before.

If Delphi made note of the variation she had never mentioned it to him - any of him.

"Lethe?"

He turned about to find Delphi standing just behind him. He'd been so lost in thought he'd not heard her approach or noticed her reflection in the glass. "Are you ready to continue?"

Eleanor Stark had been a most unwilling participant and difficult for Delphi to read. It had left her with a headache and the need to clear her mind, and all for naught. Eleanor's future had been as muddied as all others in Chrysalis recently. Not very surprising given her husband was the cause of the tangled threads.

"Nicht schon." She closed the distance between them, only inches separating them as she gazed into his eyes. "You miss Schmetterlinghorst," she stated, not needing to read him to know the truth.

"Ja. I understand the need and your wish to gain us more freedom, but it is my _home_."

She smiled sadly. "I know, but it is also our _prison_." She shook her head. "I have spent far too much of my life there already."

And _that_ was the real difference. He may remember spending decades unable to leave the compound, but _he_ had spent a fair portion of his existence free to come and go as whims or needs dictated. He had known nothing but the open-mindedness of Sharon. Delphi had lived through far darker days, no few of which when she wondered if she would see another dawn.

Lethe tipped his head down and spoke softly. "They still fear us. We must bide our time."

She sighed heavily. "Why is it you who sees clear on this matter and not I?" she asked facetiously as she backed away from him.

She had waited many years for a time when she... when _they_ might make their move and was often frustrated at the pace at which things progressed, but she knew patience was required if they were ever to hope to achieve success.

"Because I have you to guide me," he finally said. Her own future she could not see, but his... They most certainly used her talents to their advantage.

She laughed; the turmoil within her easing at last. "_Now_, I am ready." Then to Cooper, who never strayed far from her side, she said, "Bring the boy."

Cooper opened the door and Eleanor entered carrying her son. _'Brandon,'_ Lethe recalled, looking the child over. He was young, 18 months, or so in age, walking, speaking in simple sentences, but otherwise unremarkable. The boy had light brown hair and blue eyes, which were fairly typical for members of Chrysalis. Thanks to the breeding program and limited gene pool, homogenesis was inevitable and already beginning to show.

Delphi sat in one of the chairs. "Set him down."

Eleanor held the boy tighter, her fear on display for all to see. "Why?"

"Do it." Lethe ordered, his voice flat and cold.

She kissed the top of the child's head "Mama's right here," then set him on the floor.

He wobbled for an instant then steadied. "Mama, pway?" He gazed up and her expectantly, clearly unsure what was going on.

"Brandon." Delphi's voice caressed his name, curling about it and embracing it with warmth.

Brandon's eyes went wide as his attention shifted to Delphi. He looked at her quizzically. "Pway?"

She smiled broadly. "If you like." She held out a hand and he toddled over to her, completely unafraid. He grasped her hand in his tiny fist and proceeded to climb up onto her lap.

"Delphi where is he at age five?" Lethe promoted, knowing the child's attention span would be short.

She stiffened, her gift grabbing her and squeezing tightly. "I... I... I _see_." The relief in her voice was evident, especially after all the walls she had come up against prior to this.

"What do you see?" Not that it was necessary for her to speak of it aloud, but he was curious and wanted to hear of it while it was being experienced.

"Only two paths are clear. One leads to despair, the other to hope." Delphi blinked, shaking her head slightly to clear it. "Eleanor, come here."

Eleanor hesitated for an instant, then strode boldly over to stand before Delphi, who released Brandon to her.

"Sit, please, I must read you together." Delphi vacated the chair and gestured for the pair to take her place. "Lethe, target near for this. Weeks, months at most."

"Yes, Del." Sometimes, not often, but sometimes she could sense the _when_ that was needed.

Reaching out, Delphi rested her a hand lightly on each of their heads, the contact mandatory for this exercise. Lethe only hoped it wouldn't be one of futility.

"What of the boy in two months?" Lethe queried, hoping even that was not too distant to be unseeable.

Delphi shuddered. "Hunted. These two."

"By who?" Eleanor asked, affronted.

"By one who loves as a mother does," Delphi responded, seeing nothing of the room about her, the vision in her mind absorbing her full attention.

"Monroe," Eleanor muttered.

"The incubator." Lethe was careful not to phrase it as a question and send Delphi down other paths.

"Yes," Eleanor confirmed. "She has proven to be far more tenacious then we expected."

"So it would seem." Lethe felt disgusted. All this, the possible exposure and downfall of Chrysalis, over a child? He was suddenly tempted to eliminate the problem by the simplest method available: kill the boy. With him gone, there would be no conflict. "Delphi, what if the child were to be removed from the picture?"

She stiffened, catching onto his true meaning with ease. "Vengeance. Bloody and long. The price paid by all who call themselves Chrysalis."

Eleanor gasped and shot Lethe a murderous look, making it clear it would be over her dead body that he touched her child. What she failed to understand is that should it become necessary he would kill her without a second thought, with his bare hands if that was the only means available to him.

"We'll go back into hiding. They won't find us." She hugged her son; foolishly believing it could be that simple a solution.

"Who are 'they'?" Lethe questioned, finding the word choice intriguing.

It was Delphi who responded. "Others. Men, a woman. They are... family to the... to Monroe. They will carry on where she cannot." She tipped her head, appearing confused. "One... he is not always there..." She yanked her hands from the pair and stumbled backwards. "Have you no idea what you've done?" she cried out softly, anger and shock warring for dominance on her features.

"Take them out of here," Lethe ordered, concern for Delphi foremost on his mind.

Eleanor didn't wait for Cooper's assistance and rushed from the room, the child held fast in her arms. Once alone, Lethe went to Delphi, who stood there with hands balled into fists and visibly fuming.

"Del, calm down," he said in his most soothing voice. It was rare that she lost her temper, but it was clear she was close to doing so.

"Calm? Why should I be calm?" She stalked away from him, pacing about like a caged animal.

"Del..."

"No. Not when it is... _them_ who are supposed to inherit the earth. _Them_ who are supposed to be perfection incarnate. Once again in the grace of god and immortal; awaiting entry back into the garden." She spun around, a hand flinging out at the door Eleanor had left by. "_They_ _are far from worthy_."

"And we are?" Lethe questioned, wanting to know where she was going with this sudden insight she seemed to have gained.

She froze. "What?"

He placed his hands behind his back, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable, and gazed past Delphi at the vastness of the ocean outside. "Do you think it we who should rule when that day arrives?"

She stood there silent for several minutes and he wondered if he had unintentionally triggered her gift.

"Now _that_ is a very interesting question." She rubbed her face with a hand, appearing tired. "Another day for this, I think. The current situation is far too precarious for such diversions."

"You _need_ to read this Alex Monroe." Lethe could see this for himself. The cusp revolved around her and the child. The solution had not been found with the boy or his parents, so it must, therefore, lie with her. _If_ there was a viable resolution. Every moment wasted risked the timeline becoming permanent.

"Yes, there is no choice now." Delphi walked over to the window, placing her hands on the glass and leaning out over the void. "We must find her."

"We will."

-----

_A guy by the name of Sam Crothers said, "Try as hard as we may for perfection, the net result of our labors is an amazing variety of imperfectness. We are surprised at our own versatility in being able to fail in so many different ways."_

_Of course, there is a very fine line between success and failure. One person's mistake could be another's ultimate success. Almost every discovery made by man going back to fire can be viewed this way. In other words: perfection is in the eye of the beholder._

-----

"Robert, you're bleeding on the floor," Eberts observed queasily.

It was true, too; the handkerchief that had been hastily wrapped about the cut on Bobby's forearm was soaked through. The jack had slipped when they'd been changing the tire and the van had damn near come down on his head. And it would have if Darien hadn't jerked Bobby out of the way. He'd ended up getting nailed by the edge of the wheel well and sliced a good one.

"Sorry, Eberts," he sneered, "just figured getting these pics developed was a higher priority than a patch job."

"They're digital, Robert, you don't 'develop' them. I'll upload them and have them available in a few minutes. Until then..." Eberts looked pointedly at the door.

"Yeah. I'll drag him down to the Keep. Let Claire kiss it and make it all better," Darien teased, grabbing his partner by the elbow and ushering him out of the room. Eberts might not have his own office, but he presided over the main computer room like a king on his throne. It was oddly reminiscent of the 'Fish in his office.

"Fawkes, it ain't that bad," Bobby insisted, trying to wiggle out of the taller man's grip.

"Hobbes, it _is_ that bad. 'Sides it's Claire's job to put us back together when we fall apart. You don't want her out of a job, now do you?" Darien got him in the stairwell and moving downward.

"It's not that. I wouldn't mind spending some time playing doctor with the Keep," Bobby grinned, but it faded quickly. "We got to get back out there."

"Ten minutes ain't gonna make no difference." When Bobby opened his mouth, Darien ran over his incipient protest. "'Specially when we don't know where to start."

"Shit," Bobby muttered. "I blew this one, big time."

"How do you figure?" Darien asked, as he shoved open the doors and made his way down the maze of halls towards the Keep.

"He made me, pal. Which means _I_ screwed up. He's gonna kill her and..."

"Throwing in the towel a bit early there, ain't you?" They turned the final corner, Darien pulling out his mag key just as the lab door slid open. "Wow. Looks like Ebes upgraded the system."

"More like he called down and informed me that you'd be arriving," Claire said as she stepped into view.

"Stool pigeon," Bobby groused, which made Darien chuckle.

"Try concerned friend," Claire corrected as she ushered Bobby inside and to the exam chair.

Bobby grunted, though in response to Claire's comment or her probing of the injury, Darien couldn't be certain.

"How did this happen?" She left Bobby's side to get antiseptic, gauze, and other items from their proper places in the lab and set them on a mayo tray.

"Zigged when I shoulda zagged while changing a tire," Bobby answered.

Darien snorted. That was definitely the short version of the story, but who was he to worry Claire with the whole harrowing tale? "Golda fell on him."

"What?" Claire held Bobby's arm and flushed the cut with sterile water.

"Did not. I'd only have five fingers then." He raised both hands and wiggled the appendages vigorously. "See? All 10 right where they belong."

Claire tugged his injured arm back down and traded the water for something less innocuous.

Bobby yelped and tired to pull away. "Claire."

"Oh, stop being a baby," Claire admonished, continuing her ministrations unabated and ignoring Bobby's continued winces and whines. "How did you manage to get a flat?"

"Oh, we had help." Darien parked himself on one of the chairs and began rolling back and forth across the floor. "One'a Stark's goons shot it out."

"How very considerate of him." Claire eyed her cleaning job carefully. The cut was about three inches long and ran at an oblique angle from wrist to mid-forearm. It was deep enough that Darien had wanted to call 911 to get it taken care of pronto, but Bobby had to be his stubborn self and insisted that it could wait till they got back to the Agency and Claire's tender, loving care. "Any luck finding Alex?"

Bobby shook his head. "Not really. We think Stark has her."

"Which is why we were tailing him," Darien stated, tipping the chair back on two wheels.

"And why he shot out your tire." She nodded slowly, as if not quite satisfied with the answer. "Bobby, it doesn't quite need to be sewn up, so I'll leave it to you: butterfly bandages or stitches. I fancy I have quite a neat cross stitch."

"Just the butterflies, Keep. Don't need my hand numb for the next coupla hours." Bobby glanced over at Darien who was now swinging from side to side while having overtaken the chair in an undignified cat-like sprawl. "Speaking of which... Fawkes, tell the Keep about our new friends."

"New friends?" Claire asked as she gathered the necessary bits to finish patching up Bobby.

"Yeah, new faces. Some Chrysalis X-factor, or something. They and Stark did _not_ get along at all." Darien sat up a bit straighter and swung about to one of the computers. "Ebes was gonna upload the pics to the system. I can access the main computer from here, right?"

"From that computer, yes." The sound of latex gloves being snapped off and tossed on the tray was heard. "All done, Bobby. Be careful or I _will_ have to put stitches in, understand?"

"Yes, mom," Bobby said cheerfully. "Do I get a lollipop too?"

"Did you just transform into Darien?" she questioned with a laugh.

"Only if it works," Bobby answered with a grin.

Darien glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Claire buss Bobby a good one. _'Kiss him and make him all better, that's for sure.'_ Darien muddled his way through the files on the main server and stumbled across the pics. He chose an image at random, as they still had the camera-generated names attached, and opened it. It turned out to be the close-up of one of the bodyguards' pins. It _did_ have wings, and the double-helix itself was a different color; more red than gold.

"Butterfly wings?" Claire asked as she appeared over his shoulder.

He managed not to jump in surprise... just... damn. The woman could move quietly when she wanted. "Yeah. A couple of 'em had butterfly tattoos." He went back to the main file list and chose one he was pretty certain was of the chick. He was right on the money and got the headshot, which clearly showed the tattoo high on her cheekbone.

"These are amazingly sharp, Darien. I didn't realize you were a photographer." Claire leaned in closer and Darien slid the chair to the side, allowing her control of the computer. He only minded a little, as she was obviously on a mission.

"I just aim and push the button. The camera makes 'em pretty," Darien explained.

"Do you have any full body shots of her?" Claire queried, clicking on the finder window for the images.

"Yep. Took those first, along with Stark and his mook," Darien told her as he wondered what she was on about this time.

"What's up, Keepy?" Bobby joined the party, swiping the other chair and sitting down on the opposite side of her.

"I'm not sure, really," she muttered, her focus still on the pictures. She kept opening new ones, sorting them into different piles.

"Stark didn't like 'em much, that's for sure. Said their _kind _should have been killed." Darien shifted to watch her, brow knit in concentration.

"Exterminated," Bobby corrected. "Also said something about them going back to their camp and staying there. Why does it matter?"

"I don't... It's odd though, the ones with the tattoos are both blond and blue-eyed, and they look markedly different from the others," she pointed out, as she started a separate program.

"Blond, blue-eyed, maybe they're supermen?" Darien snickered.

"That's it," Claire crowed.

"Keep, I was joking." Darien got up from the chair and rolled it behind her. "Sit."

Claire did so, trusting that the chair would be there, since she was completely absorbed in whatever it was she was doing. The new program had one of the pics - the guy this time - on the right hand side, what appeared to be some kind of scaling system about the box and a variety of 'tools' on the left hand side. Claire began marking points on the image and in keying data that meant less than nothing to Darien.

"Fawkes, Stark did say something about a war and experiments," Bobby reminded, hovering over the Keep's shoulder while she worked.

"Hobbes, Hitler was a whack job with delusions of grandeur." Darien leaned back against the table, picked up a faceted crystal paperweight, and fiddled with it.

"Darien, a lot of experimentation on humans was done during World War II. Mengele and his study of the connection between twins is perhaps the best known." Claire tipped her head up to meet his eyes. "Why couldn't Chrysalis have been doing something similar?"

The idea was not as farfetched as it might seem. Experimentation on humans for the sake of the so-called greater good was something Darien was _intimately_ familiar with. And he knew of several others - Charlie Fogarty, the Catevari; Allianora, the mermaid; Simon Cole, the first invisible man. He also knew the Chinese Government had been trying to create their own invisible man. The chances that these were the only experiments of their kind going on were slim to none.

That much he could buy. But those two being WWII experiments just didn't jibe. "Keep," Darien waved at the picture on the screen, "they're too young. They'd be in their sixties if they were born anywhere near World War II."

"We can't be sure of that. Look at Stark." Bobby straightened, a frown creasing his features.

"What about him?" Darien asked, wondering what strange path Bobby's mind was wandering down this time.

"He's looking pretty good for a man his age," Bobby said, which really didn't explain a damn thing.

"And? You gonna date him or something?" Darien snarked. "My partner carrying a torch for ol' Starky. That's just plain wrong."

Claire snickered softly, but continued with her work.

"Cute, smartass, real cute. My point, and I do have one, is that Stark could be 100 years old for all we know. Our couple there might look young, but they could be lots older." Bobby smiled in grim triumph, making the crazy idea suddenly plausible. "They're _Chrysalis_, partner."

"He's right, Darien. We have no way of knowing when they discovered their fountain of youth," Claire said, distractedly.

"He did say the experiments only confirmed what they knew." Darien set the paperweight down, beginning to feel the stirrings of concern about these new members of Chrysalis. "But that doesn't explain the butterflies."

"Well, if they _are_ 'supermen,' and, by the way, they fit the profile based on this," she gestured towards the data the program had compiled. "Both have a near perfect height to weight ratio - approximated, of course - and a decidedly European facial structure."

"Plus the whole blond, blue-eyed thing." Bobby scratched absently at the medical tape holding the gauze in place.

"Exactly. The butterflies could just be their way of marking their success," Claire suggested. "It _is_ what comes out of a chrysalis, after all."

"So, they're perfect. The ultimate goal with all the breeding programs, the camps and everything?" Bobby questioned, sounding uncertain about the conclusion. "That don't make no sense with what Stark was saying."

Claire pondered for a moment. "Perhaps... perhaps they were the goal at the time. Going with the 'supermen' theme that is. Hitler was the one who decreed the master race was blond, blue-eyed, and Caucasian. Chrysalis, at the time, may have just been trying to fit in, working directly under the Nazi regime, perhaps even controlling it to a degree. By today's standards they might have _a_ success, but not quite what they expected." She rotated the chair about to face them. "It is even possible that the knowledge that created them was lost in the post-war reconstruction. We have no way of knowing."

Darien nodded in agreement. It made a scary kind of sense, but sense. He wouldn't put _anything_ past Chrysalis. "Okay, I get that, but blond hair and blue eyes are _not _perfection. Present company excluded." He nodded at Claire, who gave him a broad smile. "So what makes them so special?"

Claire had no answer for that.


	6. Chapter 5

Paperwork. How she _hated _paperwork. But even an organization such as Chrysalis had to deal with unending piles of paperwork. And reports. Endless reports compiled on every aspect of the inner workings of Sector G. There were days she felt bogged down and trapped in the minutiae of it all. Granted, most only appeared for her signature, others beneath her having read and approved the contents long before it crossed her desk.

Some days it wasn't so bad; the reports interesting to a degree, but today she longed for a distraction, even a meeting was preferable to reading how the Farm Project was coming along. Though this particular farm had _nothing_ to do with crops, be they plant or animal. The dry facts and figures made her want to yawn.

A knock at her office door impinged on her awareness. Without taking her eyes off the chart she was failing to interpret, she said, "Come."

She heard the door open, but didn't look up immediately, still trying to decipher the yield ratio.

"Tabitha, a moment of your time."

Tabitha froze. The last person she expected had just walked into her office unannounced. She had a far greater respect for Delphi after the... interview, but no less hate. A fear-ridden hate, admittedly, but hate all the same. That dratted fear of the unknown created a typical gut response that was not under conscious control.

The emotional response might be unavoidable, but sharing her feelings was not. She schooled a neutral look on her face and sat back in her seat to meet the woman's eyes.

"Of course. My resources are at your disposal." The words were thickly layered with sarcasm that was unmistakable.

"Good. I need eight of your best men in an hour," Delphi ordered without preamble.

Clearly, the sarcasm was lost on her. "Why?" Tabitha asked, keeping her request as polite as she could manage.

"We need them to gain access to a secure facility," Lethe explained, in his coolly soft voice.

Tabitha set her hands on the desk, wondering what the devil it was they were planning. "You are aware that we must keep a low profile, yes? Storming a local business or government building is not an optimal method for maintaining our secrecy."

Delphi smiled, but Tabitha could see that it failed to touch her eyes. "It is a Chrysalis run business."

Tabitha's eyebrows went up before she could prevent the reaction. "Ah. Which facility would that be?" As Delphi plainly readied a retort, she added, "I may be able to assist you with manpower best suited to the task."

This time the smile did indeed reach Delphi's eyes. "That would be most appreciated. We would prefer to do minimal damage to the personnel and equipment."

Tabitha's lips quirked, honestly surprised that they would care one whit about anything but themselves. She still wondered what they were after, but refrained from asking. Some things were better left unknown. "And the location would be?"

"Archangel," Lethe said.

Tabitha found herself not the least bit surprised by this revelation. Jared ran Archangel. Jared, who had been questioned for over an hour just that morning. Jared, who seemed to be at the center of their quest. Jared from whom she had inherited innumerable problems when she had taken this position. So, if there were the slightest chance they were going to cause difficulties for Jared, she would gladly assist.

"Will 10 men and all the command codes do?"

Lethe tipped his head slightly. "I believe so."

---

Dr. Burroughs was an incompetent fool. Even after several more hours of intensive work, Alex Monroe was still unbroken. In fact, if she hadn't been securely restrained she'd probably be doing her best to kill him with her bare hands. Oh, she was close; her eyes glassy with exhaustion, her body shaking uncontrollably from the precisely delivered electric shocks, which caused muscles to twitch and spasm for long afterwards, she remained whole, her spirit unaffected thanks to her indomitable will. If circumstances had been different, she would have been a prime candidate for recruitment into Chrysalis; her genes, perhaps, adding to the qualities already extant in the group. But, alas, she was only useful as a tool, an incubator for future generations.

"Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?" Alex made a grand effort at sounding forceful and undaunted, but it was obvious she was teetering on the brink; the tremor in her voice giving her away.

"Killing you is the last thing I want." Jared lifted a syringe filled with a clear liquid and watched as she tensed, but, instead of immediately injecting it into her, as he had with several others, he simply held it up, the light sparking momentarily through it.

"I won't tell you anything," she stated, visibly relaxing as the seeming threat lessened, which was what he had been waiting for.

With a quick movement, he jabbed the needle into her thigh and pressed the plunger.

Alex screamed and instinctively tried to flinch away, but had nowhere to go. "You son of a bitch," she snarled even as tears of pain flowed down her cheeks.

He withdrew the syringe and allowed a tiny sigh to escape. "Alexandra, you will eventually tell me everything, but as I'm quite certain you will layer it in so many lies that the truth will inevitably be obscured..." He shrugged. "I don't really care about the Agency's piddling little secrets. If I really want to know them, they're easy enough to discover without going to all this effort."

Confusion washed across Alex's features. "You did this just so I would stop looking for my son?"

"_My_ son," Stark snapped, pacing about her. "And, while I would indeed prefer you not snooping about my life, it wasn't the only reason."

"Causing you trouble, am I?" Alex managed a dry chuckle, and wincing at the pain it caused her.

"A bit. Nothing I can't handle, obviously." Jared had circled behind her, waiting for the drugs to kick in. This one had been promised to be effective, considering the hallucinogens added.

She snorted. "Do you really think removing me will stop the Agency... or Darien?" She slurred Fawkes' name then shook her head to try and clear it. "He... he'll keep coming after you."

"Not if I don't give him a reason to." Jared had some specific plans concerning Darien Fawkes, but they could wait for a time, simmering on the back burner until they reached a full boil.

"I'm reason enough," Alex countered, stumbling over the words. "Wha... what have you done to me?"

Jared sidled up to her, bending down to place his head near hers. "Oh, just a little something to loosen your tongue."

"W...w...won't work," she insisted.

"Doesn't matter. This will be my last attempt. Afterwards I'll be shipping you to a very special breeding facility."

Alex stiffened, her head snapping back into the headrest with a solid crack that must have left her seeing stars. "I won't be your cow. I'll fight you at every turn."

Jared tsked. "And how will you do that without a mind?"

"You... you wouldn't." For the first time she actually sounded frightened.

"Of course I would. Brandon would benefit from having siblings. I think a daughter would be a nice addition to the family." He circled about to face her, immensely enjoying the abject horror in her eyes. "What do you think of the name Isabel?"

"Never," she whispered hoarsely.

"What was that?" Jared questioned, finding it difficult not to smile.

"Never. I'd rather die."

"Oh, I imagine you will... eventually." Now he smiled, feral and poisonous. "Your kind always dies so quickly."

Alex visibly shuddered and swallowed hard. He was close, so very close. The hallucinogenic was surely conjuring up all sorts of terrifying images in her mind. If he gave the drug a few more minutes to work, they'd become visual and auditory as well. Not long after that, she would gladly tell him anything he wanted. She'd be volunteering information just to keep the horrors her mind created at bay. That... _that_ he would relish.

A solid _thud_ against the opaque wall drew his attention. He was not to be disturbed unless she was in danger of dying, and even in that event, her death, while annoying, would not be of great concern.

A second, more solid, _thud_ was heard then silence. A few seconds later the door opened and Jared stalked away from Alex to see who the intruder was. It took him a moment to place the man. Cooper, chief bodyguard of that witch, Delphi. He would have them all shot and to hell with Sharon and her grandiose schemes.

Only the fact that the man was _very_ well armed kept Jared from doing anything rash. "What do you want?"

Cooper said nothing as more men boiled into the room. These men, Jared recognized as part of an elite strike team that was under Tabitha's command. From witch to bitch in a heartbeat. There were times he truly hated Tabitha with every fiber of his being, and this was one of them. Had he any clue she was working with those genetic mistakes... He should have known, or, at least, guessed given Sharon's favoritism towards Tabitha.

Jared didn't like being set-up. The problem was that he was unsure why he was being targeted, or for what gain.

"Restrain him and make certain he does not interfere," Lethe ordered as he entered the room.

Four of Tabitha's elite rushed to do exactly that, and Jared swiftly found himself forced into the wall, the sole focus of the quartet of exceedingly dangerous men. He went along complacently enough, as there was little point in fighting them. Besides, he was curious what all this was about.

"Adjust the lights."

_That_ was the witch. Still outside the room, but clearly the one in command of the situation. Perhaps Tabitha was not conspiring with the pair, perhaps she was being ordered about as well. Sharon favored their kind. Maybe, just maybe, he and Tabitha could find common ground against a mutual enemy.

The bright spotlights rotated downward and dimmed, making the entire room visible to all. Alex was breathing heavily, eyes wide in drug-induced fright and confusion.

Lethe strode purposefully to her side and reached out to set a hand on her forehead.

Alex violently jerked her head away. "Don't touch me," she snarled.

Jared could only imagine what frightful visions the drug was causing by now. A smile of pure pleasure crossed his features. "She's of no use to you," he informed Lethe, positive it was the truth.

"Be silent. You have caused entirely too much trouble already." Lethe's voice was a low rumble; rarely seen anger making a sudden display. He returned his attention to Alex, who looked remarkably like a bird trapped in too small a cage, her panic written in every line of her body. "Calm, little one, we mean you no harm."

"Please," she begged, irritating Jared to no end. She was supposed to beg _him_ not that malfeasant freak. "Please, don't..."

The instant Lethe's fingertips touched her, she calmed, her eyes falling shut.

Jared had no clue what the man's abilities were, but they apparently worked. When Alex was released, mere moments later, she was back in control.

_'All that work, and for what?'_ Jared railed silently. He would have their heads mounted in cloning tanks for his viewing pleasure when this was all over.

"She is ready for you, Delphi," Lethe informed his counterpart as she entered the room. She focused her blue eyes on Jared, startling him with the intensity of her gaze, and, for and instant, he was truly in fear of his life, certain in a way he never had been before that if she felt it necessary, she would kill him and feel no concern, no remorse.

He was very much correct.

And then she turned away, moving to stand next to Alex. "You are Alex Monroe? Host mother to the child known as Brandon Stark?"

Alex licked her dry lips. "James. His name is James."

Delphi cocked her head, as if hearing voices. "Hmm. Yes, I can see that."

Alex blinked, not understanding any more than Jared. He had absolutely no clue what the woman could do, but Sharon apparently felt it necessary to send her on this errand. Whatever the errand was. Why she would trust _them_ was beyond his ability to comprehend. He certainly didn't.

"What is it you want?" Alex questioned, showing the beginnings of boldness again.

"Nothing that you can't easily part with." Delphi attempted to set her hand atop Alex's forearm, but stopped when she began to struggle, clearly not wanting the blonde stranger to touch her. "I have no plans to hurt you... unless you force me to."

Alex trembled, but managed to hold still as the woman watched her. "Who are you?" she asked, her curiosity peaked. Maybe her mind had cleared enough to realize Jared was no longer in charge. Maybe she had gained some hope that she might get out of this, surviving with her mind and body intact. And maybe it was nothing more than an effort to gather as much information as possible, to feel as if she had control of some tiny part of her current predicament.

Lethe volunteered an answer to the question. "_She_ is the one who will decide your fate."

Again, Jared failed to understand. His meeting with the couple had begun polite, but had quickly degenerated into insults; the underlying animosity bubbling to the surface and overflowing across the ground at their feet. He took Sharon's word that they and their kind had their uses, but he was unable to see them for himself. If - and it was a gigantic _if_ - that one gene pair, first discovered in their DNA, was so valuable that they _must_ be allowed to live, then they could do so in a Library; cryo-preserved in the event some unforeseen accident required them. The side-effects from the genetic manipulation were just too dangerous, too uncontrolled to make it worth the risk. Or so he believed.

Better to exterminate them all, as if they were no more than mutated insects. Stepped on, as Alex had once suggested as the fate of all Chrysalis.

Cooper spoke then, "She is online."

Lethe nodded. "Sharon, can you hear us?"

"_Oui. You hope to resolve this soon_?" Sharon's voice, coming out of the speakers, echoed oddly in the circular space.

"Sharon," Jared barked, not about to let the opportunity to express his displeasure with the behavior of her _pets_. "I demand an explanation. Your wunderkind have taken me hostage and..."

"_Silence_!" Sharon roared. "_Or you may find yourself reassigned to Greenland_."

Jared gaped. This could not be happening. He had not just been threatened with a transfer to the worst sector in all of Chrysalis. Even Siberia would be preferable. It was only then that it dawned on Jared that something of the utmost importance was occurring and that it revolved around Alex Monroe. And if _that_ was true then it followed that it involved his son. There was no other connection between himself and Alex.

Though he wanted to shout something, anything to prevent whatever it was that was going to happen next, he held his tongue, somehow certain that if he spoke so much as a single word something far, _far_ worse than a transfer would happen.

"Delphi is ready," Lethe told their superior.

"_Bon. You may begin_." An order, though phrased politely.

Alex flinched as fingers brushed along her arm, but had nowhere to go, since she had not yet been released from the restraints. Delphi shuddered visibly, much to Jared's surprise.

"Do you see?" Lethe asked, seemingly as surprised as Jared by the reaction.

"Too many paths. All points diverge from now." Delphi came back to herself, head snapping about to meet Lethe's eyes. "You must narrow the choices. Find the primes so that we may choose the best."

_'Paths? Primes? What the hell was the witch anyway?'_ Jared wondered silently as he watched her turn back to Alex. _'What could she possible see...'_ It suddenly struck Jared just why the woman was so valuable to Sharon. Her name wasn't _just_ a name; it was also a title. He knew his mythology as well as the next person. The Oracle at Delphi was one of the best known seers in ancient history. Sharon had herself a prescient, one who saw not just _the_ future, but _all_ the innumerable possible ones.

Jared might just have to rethink his plan to kill the witch when this was over. The real question was why Alex Monroe was so damn important to this _future_ Delphi had seen.

"What if the child remains with the Starks?" The question was carefully phrased by Lethe, and it was obvious to Jared that the man had long practice prompting the seer.

"The hunt will continue; those _others_ aiding her endeavors, until Chrysalis is no more," Delphi stated, delicate tremor running through her body.

_'Others?'_ Jared was certain that meant the Agency, but Delphi appeared to have no knowledge of who they were.

"_And if we just kill her_?" Sharon's suggestion was not a bad one, as it would get Alex out of the way as effectively as Jared's own plans.

"_They_ will carry on in her stead," Delphi paused, her voice going faint, "the one that is not there will see to our downfall."

In a shocked voice Alex said, "Fawkes?" echoing Jared's own thoughts. It would be just like Darien to fight for the honor of a fallen comrade, even more so than Hobbes.

"_Merde_." That single word perfectly expressed Sharon's feelings on the matter. "_How can one invisible man be the cause of so many problems_?"

Delphi pulled her hand away from Alex. "Unsichtbarer Mann? How is this possible?"

"Magic," Alex replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, and causing Jared to chuckle. It was accurate enough an answer for now. "How do you see the future?"

Delphi tipped her head in acknowledgement of the well executed riposte. Lethe, however, reminded them of their real purpose here.

"We still have no workable solution," he pointed out.

"_And we **must** have one_," Sharon insisted, her patience wearing thin.

Delphi resumed contact with Alex. "There are few viable options left."

"What if we give her the child," Lethe said in that cool whisper-soft voice of his.

She stiffened, her back arching in reaction. "Forgetfulness. Her focus will shift to her son and she will eventually stop hunting us."

"_Eventually? What of the war you foresaw_?" Sharon sounded less agitated, but Jared had no idea what the 'war' was.

Delphi shook her head, blonde hair obscuring her face for an instant. "This will buy us time only. This woman is not the only one who would bring this war to our doorstep. It will come no matter what we do here and now. What we do today will only delay it."

"The Agency knows far too much about us," Jared explained, feeling a sense of justification. "Especially Darien Fawkes."

"What of the Agency's future?" Lethe prompted, anticipating what was sure to Sharon's next request.

Delphi stilled, the silence in the room deafening for the seconds it lasted. "I cannot tell. She is only one part of the group. I do not have enough information to give you an accurate answer. That they exist for some time to come is all that I can see."

"Eliminate Darien Fawkes and the Agency will fall apart." Jared knew this to be true, had watched it happen less than a year ago when Fawkes had left for supposedly greener pastures. Only the Official's expert manipulation of the situation had brought Fawkes back into the fold, along with ruining one of Jared's grander schemes. He had lost the Quicksilver glands, Arnaud, and his position in one fell swoop. He still owed Fawkes for that.

Delphi rounded on Jared, eyes blazing. "Your vendetta with this man may very well destroy Chrysalis," she snarled, and for an instant, he saw her as she truly was: dangerous, deadly, and far more powerful than he could ever hope to be. She... _they_ were both more and less human than the rest of the world. They and their brethren really had moved on to the next stage; the evolution of mankind forever locked within less than four dozen souls.

_'An evolution,'_ Jared reminded himself, shaking off the sudden terror-filled awe she had inspired. _'What they had become was one of many possibilities.'_ He now could see the same truth when he glanced at Lethe, what they were marked as clearly upon them as the tattoos on their cheeks. They had broken free, butterflies no longer needing the protection of the chrysalis. If Sharon wasn't careful, it might just be them and not the children the breeding programs were currently producing who would one day rule the earth. And in her eyes, Jared could see that _she_ knew this as well.

"Sharon...," he began, forgetting the accusation of Delphi in his sudden need to warn Sharon of a far more serious threat.

"_Enough_." The single word was sharp, brittle like a metal reduced to absolute zero; the slightest touch would cause it to shatter into a million pieces. "_The child will go with the host_."

"What?" Jared shouted, lunging towards Delphi, though she was simply a convenient target - the messenger, if you will.

Tabitha's men quickly grabbed him and bodily shoved him painfully hard into the wall. "You can't do that," he yelled, stars wheeling before his eyes, and ears ringing with the false sound of basso bells. How much was from the blow and how much from the loss of his son was anyone's guess.

"_I can and I will_," Sharon told him as if scolding a recalcitrant child. "_Lethe_."

"Yes, Sharon."

"_You will alter the memories of all involved to fit an appropriate scenario. Make certain the child's mind is changed and as much of the indoctrination as possible removed_."

_'Altered,'_ Jared thought in horror. Brainwashing took time, a lot of time, and he and every other Chrysalis member was resistant once the indoctrination programming was complete. Only Brandon, of all here, might be so easily manipulated. Alex had already proven herself a challenging subject over the last several days.

Lethe, however, did not seem to be bothered by that fact. "It may take several days to complete."

Days? Jared was shocked yet again. What was the man going to do? Crawl into their minds, remove what was there, and lay down new memories? With a sinking feeling, he realized that might very well be true. Lethe was the river of forgetfulness that flowed through Hades. Spirits that swam the river forgot all of their former existence, wandering lost and confused for all of eternity.

"Sharon, don't do this. Don't take my son from me."

"You would prefer we sacrifice all Chrysalis has accomplished for a single child?" Delphi sneered, infuriating Jared to no end.

"I would prefer you were never born," Jared snarled.

Alex laughed. "What's the matter, Jared, things not going quite how you planned?"

He could hear the joy in her voice, her hope that this turn of events was real and that she'd be walking out of here with _his_ son. As he had told her once before, he'd rather see Brandon dead than raised by _her_.

"I wouldn't gloat so soon, Alex," Jared began, only to be interrupted by Sharon.

"_Jared, I have made my decision. The boy is hers._"

"No. I won't allow it."

"_Merde. Silence, you fool. You will do as I say and, if you are very lucky, I will permit you to breed again._" It was threat, a serious threat, and though unusual, she could indeed prevent he and Eleanor from having any more children. Would it be worth the battle? To fight to keep Brandon and possibly lose far more than just the child? His position, his power could all be forfeit if he pressed the matter. And without those... his son would have nothing. No, better to acquiesce for now, bide his time. Time that would pass, allowing Monroe to become complacent, and then he would take his son back.

"_Oh, and Lethe, make certain Jared loses interest in retrieving his son._" Sharon's amusement was easily audible across the intervening distance. "_Inform me when the task has been completed._"

Delphi, eyes glued to Jared and a smirk curving her lips upwards, responded, "Of course, Sharon."

A few seconds later a new voice said, "She has disconnected."

"Witch," Jared hissed. "I'll have you all killed for this.

Delphi motioned for Alex to be released. "No, Mr. Stark, you won't. In fact, I can guarantee you won't remember a thing."

The smile she leveled upon him cause fear, real fear, to churn in his belly. This was a battle he would not win.


	7. Chapter 6

"You sure about that, Eberts?" Hobbes didn't want to be sent on another wild goose chase. Eberts, computer geek that he was, had gone into Alex's computer to see if he could come up with any Chrysalis locations that she hadn't shared with the other boys and girls of the Agency. There turned to be nearly a dozen listed as 'unconfirmed.' The first two had been busts, so they were hoping this next one would pay off. It was going to be dark soon, and Hobbes feared that like the light, time was swiftly running out.

"_Yes, Robert. A preliminary search of their records leads me to believe that they are indeed a Chrysalis front._" Eberts' voice was confident enough for Hobbes. When it came to searching company records, Eberts was da bomb.

"All right, we'll check it out and get back to you ASAP." Hobbes shut the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Where to now?" Darien was sprawled in the passenger seat of the van, discouragement written in every line of his lanky body.

It had been a long day of fruitless searching after they'd left the Keep. Golda had survived the fall off the jack with only minor injuries; a new tire, including an rim, which had been bent, some TLC back at the Agency garage, and she'd been ready to go. Stark, however, had gone to ground and the few leads from the boathouse had led to dead ends. And there was no sign of Alex anywhere.

"A place called Archangel, over in La Mesa." Hobbes pulled back onto the road, merged with traffic, and headed away from the water.

"Which one?" Darien asked, leaning propped against the window, with his eyes at half-mast. He looked like he was trying not to fall asleep and failing.

"Which one what?" Hobbes goosed the gas and shot through the yellow light just before it changed.

"Which archangel?" Darien sat up straighter and made a valiant attempt to appear conscious. "You know, from the Old Testament? Michael, Gabriel, Raphael... Lucifer."

"Lucifer? What does that have to do with anything?" Hobbes whipped around a corner, tires squealing.

"Just figured if we knew which one we'd have a clue what the place is, that's all." Darien slumped back down, his interest suddenly waning.

"Eberts said something about security. Think they replaced that other one?" Hobbes dodged down a side street, planning on using a back route, which would allow him to avoid the worst of the rush hour traffic. Any other time of the day, he'd stick to the main roads, but now... He didn't want to get caught in the I-8 commuter gridlock surely happening right now.

"Cerberus Sentinel. And we _did_ blow it up." Darien chuckled softly.

"And the Fatman didn't dock our pay for it 'cause it was Stark who went postal with the grenades." Hobbes grinned. "Fun times."

"That they were. Still are, ain't they?"

So, _that_ was why Darien had gone all broody. He wasn't worried about Monroe, or not only her, he'd been thinking about what Hobbes had said earlier. "Dunno, Fawkes, what with you hanging out with O'Neill..."

"Damn it, Hobbes, leave her outta this, or I'll..."

"You'll what?" Hobbes challenged.

"I'll bring Claire into this." The threat was real, that much was obvious.

"And who fixed us up there, pal?" Hobbes couldn't resist the jibe.

"Not denying that, but this ain't about _them_. This is about _us_. You and me." Darien shifted in his seat, rotating as much as was safe with Hobbes driving. "What did I do wrong? Just tell me so I can fix it, would ya? I'm tired of fighting over piddly-shit, and rubbing each other's last nerve raw."

Hobbes sighed, slowing to match the speed of those around him. "A well oiled machine," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Darien leaned in closer, not catching the words.

"We're not such a well-oiled machine now, are we?"

"Not so much. Why is that, Hobbes? Can you tell me that?" Darien sounded distressed, which matched how Bobby was feeling at the moment.

Damn it, that made no sense. If pushing Fawkes away was the right thing, then it wouldn't hurt so frickin' much, would it? "'Cause things changed, my friend."

"What things?" Darien twisted completely about to face Bobby.

"Doesn't matter." Bobby tired to divide his attention between the road and his partner and, after narrowly missing smacking into the rear end of a banana yellow VW Beetle, realized both needed his full attention. He pulled into the first parking lot he came upon, for some nameless strip mall.

He put the car into park and turned to meet Fawkes stony gaze. Hurt or not, it was time to make the break, and do it cleanly this time. Not the slow inch by inch torture he'd been putting both of them through.

"What things?" Darien repeated at a near growl, as if certain Bobby was going to try avoiding the question.

He wasn't, but he had no plans to answer directly, since it would make no sense to his friend. Better to risk wrath and do the roundabout thing, either that or add to the confusion and misunderstandings already between them.

"Back in April, when we first got mixed up with... Fallon," he managed to say her name without choking on it for Fawkes' sake.

"Oh no, you a are _not_ blaming this on her." Darien's jaw tightened noticeably in anger.

Hobbes held up his hands defensively. "I'm not, I swear it."

Darien fumed, but said nothing.

"She just made me realize some things and..."

"And what? That you don't need a partner, no more? Bullshit, you..."

"No," Hobbes shouted, cutting Darien off. "Shit, Fawkes, I was so damn worried that you'd gotten hurt or," he stopped, swallowing hard at the fear-ridden memories it dredged up, "killed. And that it'd be all my fault 'cause I left. Bailed on my partner in a nasty situation and gotten him killed. That... that I'd let you down."

Darien jaw dropped, blown away by Bobby's statement. "But I was fine," Darien reminded him.

"I know." Hobbes sighed and turned to stare out the windshield. "Boy, do I know. And to top it off you probably saved O'Neill's life. You were miles better than _fine_."

Bobby saw Daren's head shake out of the corner of his eye. "I screwed up over and over again that day. You have no idea."

"Don't matter, Fawkes. The point is that you handled the situation. Like a pro." Bobby straightened and met Darien eyes. "Like an agent."

"Huh?" was Darien's startled response.

Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, big surprise for me too. You're damn good, my friend. Better than I was after only a couple years in the game. Someday you'll be great." The last was said almost shyly, as if knowing Fawkes wouldn't take the compliment too well, so the response was rather shocking.

"You think so? We talking Steed great or Bond great?" The grin on Fawkes' face was irrepressible.

"Getting too big for your britches there, junior," Hobbes warned with a faint smile and a finger wag. Once again, he had second thoughts on his chosen course of action. "Fawkes, I think we should break up."

Darien burst out laughing. "You what?" he spluttered. "You're yanking my chain, right?" Bobby's silence and dour expression caused Darien's laughter to quickly die. "Right?"

"No," Bobby shook his head sadly, "I'm not."

"You're dumping me?" Darien whined, sounding pitiful. "What for?"

"'Cause... 'cause you deserve better than a washed up agent like me," Bobby mumbled, knowing it wasn't going to work, that he'd have to do this the hard way. "Fawkes, you can work with anyone. _Real_ agents. Like Monroe. Learn stuff I can't teach you..."

"I don't want anyone else," Darien practically shouted. "Don't you get it? Working with _them_ only makes me appreciate what we've got even more."

It was Hobbes' turn to say, "Huh?"

"You heard me. You ain't getting no divorce without a fight." Darien crossed his arms over his chest, a look of determination on his face.

Bobby blinked. "You _want_ to be my partner?"

"Duh." Darien reached out to poke Bobby in the forehead. "Shit, Bobby, without you this place would be no fun at all."

"But Alex..."

"Alex is a great agent and a good friend, but she's not _my partner_," Darien cut in. "You are. And I want it to stay that way, got it?"

Hobbes grinned. "You sure?"

"Hobbesy, don't make me hurt you," Darien warned, the smile threatening to split his face in half.

"Like to see you try." Hobbes held out his hand. "Partners."

"Partners." Darien low-fived Bobby, who relaxed for the first time in months, it seemed. "Now, speaking of Alex... think we can go get her?"

Bobby's smile faded. "Yeah, the sooner, the better." He put the car into drive and headed for the nearest exit. "There may be no I in team, but there's an A and Alex is ours."

Darien snorted in amusement. "That would make Eberts our E. So, who's the T and M?"

"Uh... not a clue, Fawkes, but when this is over we'll figure it out over pizza and beer." He glanced over at Darien. "That work for you?"

"It's a date."

---

It took them nearly an hour to get to Archangel. An accident on El Cajon Boulevard trapped them in near standstill traffic for 30 minutes, but the time was well spent. Instead of the as of late typical heavy silence or ad nauseam bickering, they chatted and joked, and simply _talked_; filling each other in on the events of the last few disjointed months with nary a word of unhappiness.

When they finally arrived, parking in the lot of the neighboring building, they were back in sync with each other. There were still issues, but they were partners once again.

"Stark's here," Fawkes said as soon as Hobbes turned off the engine.

"Where?"

Fawkes pointed, but not at a person.

"Fawkes, that's a car," Hobbes groused then dove into the rear to power up the surveillance equipment.

"Okay, yeah, but its Stark's car. The one he was in earlier." Fawkes took the binoculars Hobbes handed to him.

"You sure?" Hobbes made certain the recorder was working properly and slid open the side door; the parabolic mike at the ready.

Fawkes adjusted the focus on the binoculars. "Yep. Same plate. I doubt he'd bother to change it. He don't think that way."

"True 'nuff." Hobbes smacked the receiver with one hand.

"Problem?"

"Dunno." Hobbes pointed the mike at a group of chain smokers in the parking lot and their conversation came in loud and clear. However, when he aimed it back toward Archangel he got nothing. The glass should vibrate enough to roughly transmit voices, phones, or generic hums and buzzes, but there was nothing but a deadening silence. "Shit."

"No go?"

"No, looks like they've been shopping at O'Neill's place," Hobbes grumbled, lowering the useless piece of equipment.

"Huh?" Fawkes didn't bristle at the mention of Fallon's name, not assuming the worst of Bobby's comment for a change.

"The glass ain't passing sound like it should. Like what she's got at her place, remember?" Hobbes had to admit it was a nifty idea and damn useful for foiling eavesdroppers. It just wasn't so good for their current situation.

"Oh. And it's tinted. I can't see a damn thing." Fawkes lowered the glasses and turned about. "I'm gonna check it out."

Hobbes nodded slowly. "I don't like it, but we need info." He opened a case, pulled out the wireless earpiece, and handed it to Fawkes, who set it in place on his right ear. "I got a bad feeling about this."

"You and me both. Something's going down." Fawkes shivered lightly.

"Yeah, something nasty." Hobbes switched on the receiver. "Got you loud and clear, my friend."

"Good." The Quicksilver oozed out of Darien's pores and within seconds, the passenger seat appeared empty. The door swung itself open and closed a moment later as he exited the van.

Hobbes could hear Fawkes' breathing as he made his way across the grass verge and the other parking lot. "How's it going?"

"_Jus' fine, Hobbesy_." Fawkes paused. "_I'm right in front of the door. It ain't tinted, so I can see inside. There's a big ass desk with some Chrys goons behind it and... Well, lookee who's here._"

"Who, Fawkes?" Hobbes asked impatiently.

"_Our blonde superchick with some heavily armed friends,_" Fawkes told him in a bland voice. "_She does not look happy._"

"That can't be a coincidence," Hobbes stated, mind whirling. "Monroe is here."

"_That's what I'm thinking, but why are the super twins interested in her?_"

"Don't know and don't care," Hobbes said matter-of-factly. And he truly didn't.

"_Want me to do some invisible recon?_" Fawkes was clearly raring to go and ready to rush headlong into danger if that's what it took to rescue the fair maiden.

"A negative on that. If this place is a security company _and_ Stark is involved, it's probably got eyes that can see even you, my friend." Hobbes wanted to take no chances, and most certainly didn't want to be responsible for losing both Monroe and Fawkes. "Got that, kimosabe?"

"_Yeah, I got it. So what's our next move?_" Fawkes sounded unhappy, but apparently wasn't in the mood to risk his ass more than absolutely necessary.

"We report to the Chief."

"_What good'll that do?_"

"He'll give us the bodies we need to throw at this place. Plus, sic Eberts on 'em. We'll bust in and take her out by force." It was just the kind of plan Hobbes liked. Get in, do the job, and get out.

"_Ah. Gotta love that wanton destruction option._" A second later, in a shower of Quicksilver, Fawkes appeared, standing in the doorway of the van. "Think we'll get to blow this place up, too?"

Hobbes chuckled. "Only _after_ we get Monroe out."

"Of course. She gets to help." Fawkes grinned, but sobered almost immediately. "You think she's still alive?"

Hobbes nodded. "I don't doubt it for a second. Stark would want to get everything outta her that he could first." A sad fact, but true, and exactly what they would do if roles were reversed and Monroe had Stark in her hot, dainty, and _deadly_ hands. "Yeah, she's still alive."

Fawkes sat down on the floor, one hand running through his hair. "I'll stay while you talk to the 'Fish. I don't wanna leave her alone... just in case."

Hobbes pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. "Fawkes, I ain't going nowhere." He paused while the call connected. "Eberts, tell the Chief we found her."

---

Delphi pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to stave off the swiftly building headache and finish with the business at hand. Some more questioning of Connor, Stark and the host, who had been more than willing to cooperate once she realized that this was indeed _real_ and that she'd be walking away with her son, revealed a very suitable and believable story for Lethe to implant.

The various parties had already left, escorted by several of Tabitha's elite, heading to the location where Stark's wife and son were currently staying. It was as secure a place as needed while the work was being accomplished. Soon, only a select few would remember the real events of the last few days and it would be their duty to see that it remained that way.

"You should rest," Cooper admonished, looking worried.

"I will, when this is over. There are still issues to be resolved." Delphi leaned against the reception desk, the three Chrysalis members behind it doing their best to ignore her. Stark had made his displeasure known as he was marched out the door and to the waiting transport vehicle. He'd shouted orders left and right, but it quickly became obvious to those at Archangel that he was no longer in control.

Fredericks, Cooper's long-time partner, had gone with Lethe, leaving Cooper and two of Tabitha's men behind in case there were problems.

"What else is there?" Cooper asked; he always preferred knowing about potential trouble well ahead of time.

Delphi shook her head and stared out the main door. There was nothing there, but she had the oddest feeling that she was being watched. "I'm not entirely certain. What do we know about the Agency?" They know Stark has Monroe; could they find this place?"

Cooper frowned. "You tell me. Will the Agency discover Archangel?"

Delphi stiffened, her body exhausted after all that she had seen today, but still bound by her geas. Images crashed upon her like a tidal wave. "They already know. They will be here tonight. They will..." She blinked as her gift relaxed it's hold upon her and turned to Tabitha's man. "When they come you must let them in and discover she is not here. You may put up a reasonable amount of resistance, but they _must not _be killed." Things would be so much worse for Chrysalis if those Agency men were to come to harm, especially the one called Fawkes.

"I will need to clear this with Tabitha," he said, shifting his weapon to emphasize his point.

"Tabitha put me in charge of your unit, did she not?" Delphi's voice had gone bitterly cold.

"Yes, ma'am, she did." The words were bitten off, his teeth bared in a near-snarl.

"Are you refusing my order?" The look she gave him boded ill for his continued existence should he answer incorrectly. She wouldn't even give Cooper the opportunity to deal with the situation. If a statement needed to be made, she would do it herself and give all of those here a real reason to fear her.

He snapped to attention, plainly getting the message. "No, ma'am."

"The follow it," she barked, no longer willing to be patient with those who looked upon her as anathema.

He scuttled off, taking his partner with him.

"Is it really so important that they live?" Cooper asked, and it was not an unreasonable question.

Delphi sighed, closing her eyes and allowing the images, the multitude of possible paths flitter through her mind. "Thanks to Stark, yes. For now, anyway. The path he has forced us down is a risky one, but our only hope. The dam has cracked and is threatening to break. We can only pray it holds long enough for us to get out of the path of the flood."

"And when the dam bursts?" he asked, knowing his fate hung in the balance as much as hers.

She raised an eyebrow. "Remember Noah?"

"What does some religious myth have to do with Chrysalis?" He was not a believer, of course, none of Chrysalis' children were. In truth, neither was Delphi, but there were lessons to be learned, parallels that could be drawn and manipulated if one was wise enough to see them.

"Only God's Chosen survived," Delphi explained in a sardonic tone, but she could see that the message had been understood. There would be those who would fall by the wayside, lost, or sacrificed to the greater plan.

"Do you know who the chosen will be?"

Delphi smiled.

---

The attack was swift and precise, coming just after 0200, when occupancy of the building was believed to be at its lowest and those there lulled into complacency by the lack of alerts. Hobbes led the group of 10 who stormed the main entrance with flash grenades in the entryway to blind the guards and shaped charges to blow the door inward. Thanks to Eberts' research they were able to lock the main elevators and stairwells, keeping anyone on the upper floors trapped until they were done.

One of the guards, with some persuasion by Hobbes, revealed the route to the interrogation rooms. Again, Hobbes led the way, this time encountering some resistance, which was quickly brought under control. One of the Chrysalis mooks coughed up the info about the rooms located below ground and that Stark reserved the sixth sub-level for _special_ guests.

The team went down in two groups. The secret elevator at the end of the interrogation room hallway would only hold six men at a time. The second smaller group remained topside until the first group radioed back up that the sub-levels were secure.

Hobbes and Fawkes had remained behind with the second team, and only entered the elevator after the all-clear was given. The Official had been very specific that Darien was _not_ to take part in the assault. He had no experience and millions of dollars of bio-ware in his head that the Official did not want lost to a stray bullet. Fawkes had had mixed emotions on the matter, wanting to be there for the grand entrance and yet not wanting to get shot, but in the end had agreed with his boss' terms. It wouldn't do Monroe much good if he was killed trying to rescue her.

In the end, it didn't matter. When Bobby and Darien arrived, the room, and the smaller one within it, were empty.

---

Darien was toweling his hair dry, trying to convince his body that a 20 minute hot shower was the equivalent of 12 hours of sleep. It wasn't working.

After the bust at Archangel, which had gained them all sorts of useful data, but no Alex, they'd continued down the list. Chasing down any and every lead they or Eberts could come up with, even expanding the search beyond Chrysalis. For two days now. Even Darien was beginning to think that whoever had grabbed Alex was long gone, having taken her so far away that they'd never find even the slightest trace of her.

They'd been working non-stop since the raid, running on caffeine, adrenaline, and not much else. Claire had finally ordered them in no uncertain terms to go home, but he'd been unable to even doze off for more than a few minutes. The need to find, to _save_ Alex overriding the demands of his body.

He stared at his reflection, eyes bloodshot, with deep, dark circles beneath them. He looked like he'd aged a decade in the last few days. Not that it mattered. Bobby had taught him the value of not bailing on your partner or your friend, and Alex was both. He _had_ to do something.

His cell phone went off with a chirp that meant the caller was unknown and he shuffled out to retrieve it from the felt of the pool table. Expecting some telemarketer that had gotten his number he mumbled, "Fawkes."

"_Darien, I..._"

"Alex?" Darien practically shouted into the receiver, his heart suddenly pounding forcefully against his rib cage. "Are you all right? What happened? Where the hell are you?"

"_If you give me half a chance, I'll tell you,_" she grumbled, but there was obvious relief in her voice. "_Can you get away?_"

"Yeah. Just tell me what you need." Darien would have walked through fire, covered in Quicksilver, of course, if it would help her.

"_Meet me at the Westgate Hotel in Hollywood at 5:30. We'll be in the gift shop off the lobby,_" Alex said, rushing her words.

Darien jotted down the info on the top of a pizza box lying on his counter. "Five-thirty. I'll be there. Should I call Hobbes?"

"_No. The fewer who know the better. I promise I'll explain everything when you get here. And don't try to call back, I'll be ditching this phone as soon as I hang up,_" Alex explained.

It was way too spy-school for Darien, but since she was the Five-Star-A, he'd follow her lead. "Alex..."

"_We're fine, Darien._"

"We?" Darien asked, wondering who was with her when the gleeful giggle of a child echoed across the distance. "James."

"_Yes. I got my baby boy back._" You could hear the utter joy in her voice. "_Five-thirty, Darien. We're counting on you._"

"You can, Alex." Now he just had to prove it to her.

"_I know, that's why I called._" And on those words, she disconnected.

The relief Darien felt was palpable. Alex was all right. No, she was better than all right, she had her son back. Somehow, she had grabbed him out from under Stark's nose and made off with James like a thief in the night. It made Darien feel oddly proud.

First things first; get dressed, get some cash, and get a ride for the trip. Darien dashed back to the bathroom to get started.

---

By all accounts, Alex had pulled off a fricking miracle. She'd been at that boat dock, bided her time, had managed to grab James right out of Eleanor's arms, and took the car intended for the woman's use. Alex had then forced the driver at gunpoint to take her to the airport where she'd left him unconscious in the driver's seat while she upgraded to a plain white Explorer at Shamrock Car Rental under an assumed identity. Then she'd driven north to Los Angeles, a perfect place to get lost. She'd hit LAX, where she dumped the Explorer and picked up a Dodge minivan under another name, then headed for the water and picked a Holiday Inn at random. She'd swapped cars, hotels and names three times since then, waiting and watching, expecting Chrysalis to show up at any second to reclaim James and whisk him back to the loving bosom of Stark.

After five days had passed, she decided it was time to risk making contact and called Darien. They'd spent one last night in Hollywood before driving back to San Diego in the pre-dawn hours. Darien had taken made use of the Quicksilver and got mother and child into the building and before the unsuspecting Official without incident.

The self-same Official who had listened to the entire story in stony silence, seemingly oblivious to everything about him, ignoring the happy reunion as Eberts, Claire and Hobbes made their entrances, squealed over Alex and oohed and ahhed appropriately over James, who rarely strayed from his mother's side and had to have been the best behaved toddler on record.

The whole thing was looking to transform into an impromptu party when the Official cleared his throat and captured their full attention. "Agent Monroe, do you realize you may have cost this Agency a lot of money with your failure to meet Agent Ivanova?"

"And miss her chance to get James?" Darien scoffed. "You gotta be kidding me."

Alex ran her fingers through the hair of the child now clinging to her leg and staring at the Official with eyes gone wide in reaction. "Given a choice between my son and my job, my son will win every time."

Then everyone began speaking at once.

"Sir, you must admit..." came from Claire.

"It _is_ why she joined the Agency," Eberts reminded.

"Chief, it's her kid, she hadda..." Bobby tossed in.

"Enough," the Official roared, slamming his hands on his desk and rising. "So, all of you think she did the right thing, haring off to do this on her own?"

Darien's response silenced the room. "No, I don't."

"Darien, but you just said..." Claire began, sounding shocked.

"I know what I said, Claire, and, though I hate to admit it, the Official's right." Darien turned to face Alex. "You shouldn't have gone alone."

Alex gaped at him. "But..."

"He's right, Monroe. We're a team." Bobby shrugged. "We got problems, we help each other with 'em."

Alex shook her head. "This was personal. You," she aimed a look at the Official, "made it clear when I reupped my contract that I was not to use the Agency to find James."

The Official harrumphed and waved his hand dismissively. "That was before we learned Stark had taken him."

Alex just closed her eyes for a long moment in total disbelief. "So, does this mean you'll help?"

The Official spread his arms wide, managing to look grandfatherly for a second. "All you have to do is ask."

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "Protection, but not that witness relocation program you used last time - they're idiots."

The Official chuckled. "Not to worry. I'm owed some favors that will allow the Agency to oversee your protection." He smiled broadly.

"You planned for this?" Hobbes asked; a total lack of surprise in his voice. After all, the 'Fish was a wily old coot.

Eberts moved to his usual position behind his boss. "The Official has set up many contingency plans should this event occur." He glanced at his boss. "Will Little Lost Lamb do?"

"That one should do nicely." The Official came around to stand before Alex, who now held her son. "They are going to come for him."

She faced him defiantly. "Let them."

He smiled. "That's the spirit. The safe house is furnished with everything you might need. It's not fancy, but..."

"Thank you. I'm sure it will be more than adequate." Alex truly sounded grateful.

Hobbes rubbed the top of his head. "How'd you know she pulled it off, that she wasn't sitting in some torture chamber all this time?"

Darien was wondering that himself, given the last week they'd all been working on the assumption that Alex was in someone's clutches, and had been searching every nook and cranny for her. Would've been nice if the Official had filled them in and kept them from worrying.

"The same way I know _you_ prefer the right side of _her_ bed," the Official stated smugly as he looked from Bobby to Claire and back.

"Sir," Claire squealed, blushing a delicate shade of pink while Bobby blustered and muttered imprecations under his breath.

Well, that answered _that_ question, now didn't it? At least Darien no longer had to worry about accidentally revealing the relationship to his boss.

"See that is doesn't interfere with your work," the Official ordered as he headed to the opaque door and opened it. Higgins and Alice stepped in. "Arrange transport for Agent Monroe and her child to the safe house."

"Yes, sir," was the quick response from Higgins. "If you would follow me?"

Alex walked over to Darien first and, going up on her toes to do so, kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

Darien ducked his head, heart warming at her honest appreciation of his efforts. "Anytime. Now get out of here," he gave her a gentle shove to get her moving, "and get to know your son."

With a grateful smile, she did.

Eberts and the Official followed along, playing verbal ping-pong as they detailed the plans for protecting mother and child.

Hobbes pouted. "How come you get a kiss? What about me, huh? I did just as much work, worried just as much..."

The rant was cut off when Claire planted her lips on his and turned the remaining words into unintelligible mumbles that eventually trailed off into silence as she finally derailed his train of thought.

Darien smiled. At least everything was all right in one... no make that two corners of the universe. But he had a nagging feeling that there were loose ends, important ones that _needed_ to be tied up - if only he could figure out what they were.

"All right, you two, break it up." He set a hand on each of their shoulders and pried them apart, both of them laughing. "I'm not _that_ voyeuristic," he informed them.

Claire gave Darien an apprising look. "I do have some tests to run that require your presence."

"And we've got paperwork to do. In triplicate," Bobby reminded.

Darien pushed them back together. "As you were. I'm off to get breakfast."

"Sorry, pal, you're right, there's work to be done," when Darien's face fell, Bobby added, "after we eat. You're buying, right?"

Darien grinned, glad to be free of the work grind for a little while longer. "You got it, my friends." He tossed his arms about their shoulders. "_Krispy Kreme_, here we come."

Arguing amicably about a more suitable place to have breakfast, the trio left the office.


	8. tag

Tabitha would be glad to see the last of these two for, no matter now much their usefulness to the cause was touted, she would never be able to abide their presence for long. They were just too different from the others of Chrysalis to ever fit in. And it was quite obvious they were fully aware of that little fact, but something about them suggested that they didn't care. Maybe they truly did see themselves as better, as something beyond the other modified Chrysalis members. If that was true... Tabitha repressed a shudder, fearing it would not bode well for the great plan.

"_Are you certain the timeline is stable?_" Sharon asked; her voice carried flawlessly across the intervening distance.

"For now," Delphi responded. "You must understand this was a stopgap measure only. What Stark put into motion cannot be prevented."

"_But you have gained us time._" It was both a question and a statement, Sharon wanting confirmation that everything was back on track.

"Yes, but it will require constant vigilance to maintain this path," Lethe asserted. Of the two, he was the more disconcerting. Something over the last few days has altered the man dramatically and left Tabitha wondering what had happened to change him so.

"_Merde. Jared has cost us much,_" Sharon complained bitterly, and Tabitha could only agree, given the recent mess. Allowing the host of his child to not only find the boy, but also succeed in stealing him away not just once, but twice. It was unconscionable. So, it was no wonder Sharon had decided to cut their losses and let the child go. It would make for one less complication for Chrysalis.

"He could be of use in another sector," Tabitha suggested sweetly. She wouldn't mind getting rid of the man and his personal machinations.

"_Non, he is needed there._" Sharon made it clear there would be no further discussion of the matter.

"As you wish, Sharon." Tabitha knew better than to argue.

"_Delphi, you implied that the Agency is important to our future, oui?_"

Delphi's features went suddenly blank and it made Tabitha think the woman was hiding something.

"Important to Chrysalis' future, yes, but how exactly I was unable to ascertain," Delphi explained, her voice cool and steady, betraying nothing of what she felt.

Sharon was silent for several minutes, only the green light on the phone showing that the connection was still live preventing Tabitha from asking what the problem was. Plainly, there was a serious decision to be made here.

"_Delphi, you will remain in Sector G and read the members of the Agency. I wish to know exactly how their future will affect ours._"

Tabitha frowned. That was an unexpected turn.

"_Lethe, you will join me here. I need you for a special assignment._"

_That_ got a reaction from Delphi. "Sharon," she began at a shout, but quickly got herself under control "I will require Lethe as a prompt..."

"_Cooper, can serve in that capacity,_" Sharon argued.

"Their memories..."

"_You rely too heavily upon Lethe to cover your tracks. I would recommend that you find an alternate method of contact for the duration._" Sharon's voice had lowered dangerously; something was going on that Tabitha did not yet understand.

Delphi glanced at Lethe, whose look was stony. "I would prefer not being separated from Delphi."

Sharon's sigh of irritation was audible. "_It is necessary. Why does it seem you have forgotten who is in control here?_"

Delphi bristled visibly, which Tabitha found quite interesting, but Lethe set a hand on her shoulder, calming her before he spoke, "We have not forgotten, Sharon, and will do as you request, as always. I simply wish to remind you that we function optimally as a pair and not as individuals."

"_A valid reminder, Lethe, but it does not change my need. If things go as I plan, you will be reunited in a few weeks._"

Delphi still did not look happy, but said, "I understand. I will investigate this Agency." She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. "Their future is tangled with ours and breaking the threads will do more harm than good."

Tabitha muttered, "Of course it will. They are like a sickness; tiny insignificant on the surface, but to cut the infection out would be devastating. Why can things not be simple?"

Delphi cocked her head. "Because life is not simple." Her attention left Tabitha. "Sharon, it may take me some time to make contact with all involved. I will need assistance."

"_You will have it. Sector G's resources will be at your disposal. Do not abuse the privilege._" The last was clearly a warning.

"You do not have to worry about Delphi. She understands the burden you are placing upon her." The look Lethe leveled at Delphi was fraught with meaning that Tabitha was incapable of interpreting. She did not trust the woman at all and would watch her carefully so long as she was in Sector G.

"She will have my full cooperation, of course," Tabitha confirmed, though it pained her to say so.

"_Bon. Lethe, I want you here in two days,_" Sharon ordered.

"As you wish." He was completely unreadable, unlike Delphi whose eyes showed her utter discontent.

"_I will see you then,_" Sharon said. "_Tabitha, I want a full report by nine a.m. tomorrow._"

"You will have it," Tabitha assured her superior just as the connection went dark. She leaned back in her chair and watched Delphi warily. "I will arrange accommodations for you in town, if you wish."

Delphi nodded. "That will be fine. I will need all the data you have on the Agency and its employees. Especially this Darien Fawkes." She and Lethe stood, and stepped towards the large window overlooking the city.

"I'll have it for you within the hour." Tabitha rotated her chair to keep the couple in sight. They stood side by side in silhouette, hands clasped behind their backs, gazing out the window at the whole of San Diego laid out before them. They were so still, and so silent that it unnerved her and she felt the need to break the heavy silence. "Will that be acceptable?" She didn't know why she felt the sudden urge to be obsequious to the pair, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

It was Lethe who finally responded with a single word, "Yes."

---

_This wiseguy named Gide said, "Know thyself? A maxim as pernicious as it is ugly. Whoever observes himself arrests his own development. A caterpillar who wanted to know itself well would never become a butterfly."_

_It's true too, and it's a dangerous trap to fall into. We're not static creatures unless forced to be... or designed to be. See, that's the pitfall of the path Chrysalis had chosen to wander down. They were seeking perfection, an ultimate version of man that would take them to some future utopia. Rushing mankind's evolution with what they hoped was the pinnacle in intelligent design. But they were so focused on their grand plan they couldn't see anything else. That whole forest for all the trees thing. If they weren't careful, they might not succeed in escaping their chrysalis._

_--- _

_Finis_


End file.
